


Stars Over Notre Dame

by KyousBeads13



Category: Disney - All Media Types, The Hunchback of Notre Dame - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 08:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5084146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyousBeads13/pseuds/KyousBeads13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Étoile comes to Paris seeking answers concerning the death of her Father.  The person responsible is the least likely person she ever expected to meet.  A friendship is built on lies before developing into something quite new to both Étoile and the killer of her Father, Quasimodo, who turns out the be the kindest person she had ever met.<br/>[ Quasimodo X OC ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning in Paris

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, welcome to this monster of a story that I've been writing for almost half of a year. So much work, time, research, and love has gone into this, and I can only hope that you enjoy it half as much as I did writing it. This work is rated M for the reason of later explicit scenes, please keep that in mind.
> 
> Special nod to Dan for being my BETA on this and usually being more excited than I am about it..
> 
> I hope you all enjoy.  
> \--KB

Birds chirped as they flew through the light blue sky, gliding on the gentle breeze that brought with it the smell of flowers that hung in the windows of the magnificent town. Paris in Spring was something to behold; windows to bakeries flooded the street with sweet smells and the giggles of children reverberated off the homes that lined the cobblestone streets.

  
For someone who had never been there, it was something akin to a glimpse of paradise, especially when looking up into the sky line. Notre Dame seemed to glow in the mid-morning sun. Étoile poked her head into alley ways, her grey-blue eyes searching for someone who might have recognized her by her face or the curly mop of blonde hair that fell around her fair face.

  
Étoile took after her father, her face resembling his by its structure as well as his eyes. The difference in the two rested in his tanned skin from being outside during his work, Étoile having her mother's pale skin that burned with even the slightest bit of sun. Freckles littered her face and body, quite dark in some spots. Even in the spring sun, she had wrapped herself in a cloak, keeping her skin out of the sun, although not doing well enough to tame her hair. Her father laughed whenever she would pull a rogue curl of his and watch it spring back, comparing it to her own.

She turned another corner and nearly ran into a group of passing people, excusing herself hurriedly as her feet pattered against the cobblestones towards her destination. An intimidating building with many large columns became clearer as she weaved her way through the mess of children, as well as dancers and musicians, in the street. Horses and carriages obstructed her way until she finally managed to cross and found herself in a concrete courtyard looking at walls with windows that seemed to touch the sky.  
Étoile took a breath through her parted lips, exhaling to calm the fluttering in her stomach before bringing herself to walk through the main doorway. As she did, she was met with several people rushing around the space, their footsteps echoing off the arched ceilings that seemed impossibly high. The young woman had only been to Paris when she was a girl, her father bringing her with him while visiting this very place on assignment. Her memories of the trip were foggy, but she couldn't help but be awestruck by the vibrant clarity of the space she was seeing.  Once again, having to push herself forward, she found her way to a hall that was guarded by several large men who towered over her like the walls themselves.

"What is your business?" One requested of her without looking her in the eyes.

"I... Well, I received a summons from the Captain. It was addressed to my mother, but she is extremely ill and unable to make the journey."

"Name."

"I am Étoile de Provins. Daughter of Michel de Provins." She removed her hood, her curls falling to her shoulders as she pressed them down to her head. One of the guards cocked an eyebrow, not only at her lack of head covering, but name as well.

"Étoile? Such a strange name."

"My father and mother wanted me to stand out, sir." She bit her tongue, feeling a slight fire at his comment.

"I will announce you. Remain here." The other man ordered while turning to walk down the winding hallway behind him, the other guard keeping a close eye on the woman in front of him.  Étoile spun on her heels, looking at the architecture and clicking her heel against the stone floor, trying to count the seconds afterwards that she could hear the reverberation-she lost the sound after about two or three.  The clicking of boots drew her attention back to the guards as the two of them stepped aside after exchanging words with one another.

"He says he will see you.”

"Thank you." She rolled her eyes slightly to herself, the note her family received now clutched in her slender hand. As she followed the hallway, it opened to a large room, lit with  
torches around the circular area. A man stood talking to a few others over a map, his armor  
much more decorated than the rest, alerting her to his rank. He was tall, with a strong facial structure, and held himself with an air of importance. Suddenly, she was intimidated beyond what she would have liked to admit. The Captain had noticed her presence and waved the other men aside, their eyes falling on her as the superior made his way over.

"You must be Étoile, you look exceptionally like your father." The Captain had thick, dirty blonde hair that was pushed behind his ears, his strong jawline showcased by the beard on his

"Captain Phoebus." She said trying to hide the intimidation that wavered in her voice. He took her hand, still clutching the note, and brought it to his lips.

"You've traveled a long way and in such a short amount of time."

"I'm a fast walker." She passed nonchalantly and Phoebus chuckled to himself before replacing his grin with a more solemn face.

"Well, I appreciate the speed; the reason you are here is quite important." The Captain walked to another side of the room, his blue cape swishing around his ankles as he did. Étoile followed him as he gestured to a large decorated chair for her to take a seat in. She thought to herself how comfortable the seat looked. She was mistaken. "As you are aware, your father was brought here to help with the initiative that took place a few months ago under Judge Claude Frollo.”

"Yes, I know," she was becoming bored with the situation and wished that he would just get to the point of when she could see her father.

"There was a fierce attack and battle that took place at the foot of the Cathedral, Notre Dame. The battle was between both townspeople and soldiers alike... And huh, others, as well." He cleared his throat. "There was an incident."

"Alright..." Looking at him with a sideways glance, her eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry to say this, he won't be coming home today." He looked away from her gaze as Étoile shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

"...And when will he be returning, then?" She was at the edge of the deceiving seat.

"Étoile..." Her name hung heavy in the air and she suddenly felt the room spin. A large knot came to her throat as she tried to even her erratic breaths. Once she felt she could trust her voice to not fail her, she spoke up.

"How?" She asked simply, afraid any other words may die on her lips.

"There was something that occurred at the Cathedral that many perished from."

"What?" Once again, she held her tongue from spitting out the venom that pooled in the bottom of her stomach.

"From above the Cathedral, there was hot lead that was poured into the streets below. Many didn't survive it. Your father had attempted to save a group of townsfolk and did not make it out of the way in time." Étoile sat and tried to digest the information that was given to her, a million and one questions rolling through her clouded mind. Tears stung her eyes and her breaths began to heave in her chest again, her composure just about leaving her altogether as just one question stood out predominantly in her mind....

"How on earth would hot lead be poured from above Notre Dame?" Phoebus shifted uncomfortably and adjusted the weapon at his hip.

"Well, as I'm sure you're aware, there is a bell tower above the Cathedral. The lead is used to patch any cracks that may cause damage to the sound of the bells."

"And who thought it was a great idea to pour this down upon innocent people?"

"I..." The Captain looked incredibly uncomfortable in his own skin and Étoile stood up, finally gaining his eyes back. Her dark brows came down in something that resembled a scowl.

"There is someone who tends to the bells. He in no way intended to hurt anyone, I'm sure, but it was a battle for Notre Dame and he was merely protecting as many as he possibly could." Phoebus seemed to ramble on, stuttering out more defenses of the aforementioned bell ringer.

"That doesn't make it okay! My Father is dead!" She yelled, gaining the attention of the other men in the room. One moved towards them, seemingly ready to hold her back from attacking the Captain. "You sound like you're trying to protect the man who killed him!"

"Étoile, you do not understand what this battle meant."

"I understand that a bunch of innocent people were killed!"

"You know nothing!" The Captain barked back, effectively silencing the young woman in front of him. A man who stood in the shadows moved forward with a wrapped object in hand. Étoile looked at him as tears spilled over her cheeks and took the object lightly into her own grasp. Unwrapping it with shaking fingers, her reflection in his helmet stared her back, blackened from the smoke and fire that filled the square that day. She looked back up to Captain one last time.

"Is that all?" Caught off guard by the question, he nodded. "Right. Well, thank you, Captain." She said while ripping herself from the room, biting her bottom lip as she moved back through the winding hallway and shouldered her way past the guards.

Reaching the front entrance, she burst through the doors and back into the concrete courtyard she had been in before. She felt her knees give out as she propped herself up against a pillar. Everything seemed gray and dull despite the bright sun above as she let out a choked sob, her tears pouring down and staining the grey cloak she wore. She held the helmet that now belonged to her tightly in her grasp, knuckles turning white, as she lowered her head to it and choked on a sharp exhale of breath.

Étoile felt the people's gazes on her as they passed but cared not; she stayed there long enough for herself to feel numb. When she finally lifted her head, the sun had moved considerably across the sky, the early afternoon now upon the city. Her eyes traveled to her left, the daunting form of Notre Dame looming in the distance.  
Within a moment's time, she stood up, helmet tight at her side. She walked.

~  
Looking down on the square below, the bell ringer sighed to himself as he turned back to the cleaning he was doing. His new found freedom was more or less... Constricting. He shook his head, deciding that that made no sense, and put the rag he was using to clean with down. Hearing a rustle behind him, he assumed that the gargoyles were switching positions, but was startled when a voice rang out through the bell tower.

"Quasimodo!" The woman's voice pulled his attention over his shoulder as she ascended the last wooden step. Seeing her step up, he walked over to her as she took him into a hug and pulled back to smile at him. "How are you feeling today?"

"Much better," he smiled back at her and sighed again, not even realizing the noise that it made as it passed his lips.

"Hm, in my expert opinion that doesn't sound like a 'better' sigh."

"W-Well, I..." He trailed off and walked over to his rag once again to have something else to preoccupy his attention. Quasimodo rubbed the rag into a spot he was sure was immaculate and ignored Esmeralda's stare.

"You just have to take things at your own pace, Quasi." She said warmly. Quasimodo put his rag back down and traveled back over to the ledge that allowed him to look down on all the people he was now free to walk among.

The past few months had been a learning experience of sorts for the man, he had never before known just how obtaining his newly found freedom would affect him. While he knew perfectly well he was allowed out of the tower, he found it hard to leave. That was the last trace of a bond that he shared with his Master, after all, and as much as he knew he shouldn't, he still mourned the death of his caretaker. Quasimodo would lay awake at night with visions of fire below him, the roar of the crowd, the heat of the stone in his hands, the air blowing his hair into his eyes as he struggled to hold on... Worst of all, he could envision the charred and broken remains of Frollo from his plummet the into the hellish destination below the Cathedral whenever he would just begin to drift off to sleep.

The insurmountable levels of guilt that plagued him daily seemed to never fade, even as the weeks grew warmer and he tried to busy himself more with everything that was going on in the town. Esmeralda would be sure to visit him whenever she could, bringing him something to eat and making sure that he at least drank something while she was there. He was reluctant to do so but didn't want her to worry over him and stomached it for her.  
The breeze ruffled his hair as he looked next to him, Esmeralda leaning on her forearms and looking out above the square in the evening light.

"I saw you dancing before. You had quite the crowd." The bell ringer commented quietly, still focused on the people who looked so small from above.

"It's nice to be out in the open again." She smiled at him and put an hand on his arm before she felt him tense up. "Quasi-"

"Who is that?" He asked out loud but didn't seem to want an answer. Esmeralda looked to where his gaze focused. The small outline of a person moved towards the Cathedral stairs, very pointedly and with purpose. Quasimodo strained his eyes to see who she was, her curly blonde hair bouncing in her face and making it more difficult to make out her features. "I've never seen her before..."

"Hm, that's strange, there haven't been that many travelers coming through since a few months ago." Esmeralda took a step back while Quasimodo still continued to stare. His emerald eyes followed her form until she had finished climbing the stairs and entered the Cathedral below, disappearing out of his sight. Deciding to think nothing of it, he turned around, noticing Esmeralda setting up a little spread of food that she had brought. "Hope you like melon, they had it at the market."

~


	2. Who is the monster

Overwhelmed by the breathtaking beauty of the Cathedral, Étoile allowed herself a moment to gape at the space around her. She opened her ears as the huge door shut behind her and echoed throughout the holiness of Notre Dame. It smelled heavily of incense and candle wax, a smell that brought her back to her previous trip to Paris that she had recalled earlier in the day. She walked forward towards the black and white checkered floor to look back upon the amazing stained glass window that looked out over Paris. It filled her with nostalgia of her father, speaking of it so lovingly the last time she had been to the place she was standing now.

Doing a little exploring, Étoile took her time, completely forgetting the anger that had burned through her whole body while she stormed across the city the last couple of hours. It was difficult to feel anything besides the peace of Notre Dame. Coming across the prayer candles, she lit one for her dear father, tucking his helmet under her arm and praying for him quickly. Admittedly, she didn't quite know what to say since she had had such little time to process the information she had been given, and not even fully understanding that he was indeed gone. She breathed in sharply as the words passed through her mind, peeking out of the corner of her eyes to gaze upon the faces of the rest of the people who knelt in prayer. She wondered if any of them were there for the same reason she was.

Continuing her journey around the Cathedral, Étoile took enough time to look at each window she passed, smiling as she recalled the stories that each pane represented. They were colored brilliantly by the setting sun behind them, casting bright colors along her pale skin. The girl held her arms out and watched as the colors and shadows danced along her as she moved and shifted. She followed the line of the walls and suddenly came to an archway which lead to a staircase, a wooden door at the top. Étoile looked around her, getting the sense that she had no business in being where she was currently, but put a foot on the first step.

'This might lead me to the bell ringer so I can ask him just want I want to.' She nodded to herself and pushed off to begin to climb the stone steps in front of her. When she reached the last step at the landing, her hand had a very difficult time reaching out to touch the wood. It was splintered with age and seemed as though the hinges were rusting away. There was a lock on the door and she assumed that this is where her journey would end as she fought with herself as to whether or not she wanted to proceed.

What exactly would she ask if she did come to meet this bell ringer? He probably wouldn't even be aware that he had killed her father let alone why he had done it. Her fingertips twitched as they hit the wood and gave a little test push, the wood swinging inward, signaling that it was, indeed, unlocked. Trying to gather her nerves, she tried to push the door the rest of the way in, but was nearly knocked from her feet when it had swung open the other way. She stumbled back a few steps and caught herself before she fell backwards and stared up into the dark green eyes of the woman who had caught her so off guard.

"Can I help you...?" Esmeralda asked, staring at the young woman in front of her. Étoile stood there for a moment wondering who this woman was. She was thin and dark-skinned with hair as black as the night. Étoile had never seen such a beautiful woman before.

"I... Have come to see the bell ringer." The words tumbled from her lips before she could reason with herself that the woman did not need to know the nature of her business.  "Why, who are you?" Esmeralda raised an eyebrow and stifled a laugh.

"I don't remember Quasimodo saying that he was expecting a visitor today." Esmeralda eyed the girl before closing the door behind her and Étoile cocked her head to the side, curls bouncing into her face. "I'm his friend, Esmeralda. If there's something I can help you with, let me know." Her tone was kind, yet protective.

"I-I just wanted to ask him something, Quasimodo, that is." The name was foreign on her tongue. What a horrible name to have. Who would ever name their child something that cruel, she wondered.

"He's in a difficult place right now. Perhaps coming back at a later date might be bes-"

"I've come a very long way," Étoile felt insulted. He was in a rough place from what? Killing innocent people?

"I see," Esmeralda was taken aback by the girl's outburst. "Wait here a moment." she instructed and turned on her bare heel. Étoile watched as the mysterious woman climbed the curved staircase that was behind the wooden door and disappeared behind the curve of the stone wall. Unable to keep her curiosity away, she began to quietly make her way up the stairs a distance behind Esmeralda, and came out of the top of the tower, the sky already having turned over to dark navy blue and littered with stars.  A strong gust of wind hit her and made her shiver and clutch her cloak to her body as she walked towards one of the towers, into which she assumed Esmeralda had retreated. The stone flooring had turned to wood as she was sheltered by concrete walls and wooden beams around her. Looking up to the dark ceiling, she could see large black masses hanging above her head.

'Bells...' she thought simply to herself. Her ears adjusted as she heard the familiar voice of the woman she had met a short few moments ago, as well as another one mingling with hers in dialogue. It was a man's.

"...I'm not sure where she's from."

"What could she possibly want from... me?" There was a wavering in the man's voice that made him sound almost scared.

"I could tell her to come back."

"Well, maybe it's something really important if she came all this way."

"Are you really sure?" Étoile was curious to see just whom the second voice was attached to and began to climb the steep stairs to what seemed like a wooden platform. She had put the hood of her cloak back on her head in order to shield her bright curls from view and peeked her eyes over the edge of the wooden flooring. Esmeralda stood with her back to her as she continued to talk to someone that Étoile could not quite see.

"I-I don't really see the harm in it." The unseen man passed. Esmeralda looked at his hands which he twisted and rubbed in front of him, a sure sign of nerves, and shook her head. "I left her down in the Cathedral staircase, I can always tell her to come back when you're ready." Étoile quietly hoisted herself up to stand on the floor.

"Excuse me?" She said as quietly as she could but still startling the duo out of their conversation. Esmeralda flipped around wildly while a stumble and a crash could be heard from behind her as Quasimodo scrambled backwards at the new voice. He had tripped over the bench by his table.

Freedom or not, Quasimodo was still ashamed by his form. He never left the Cathedral without wearing a cloak and still received less than desirable glances from passersby as he walked with Esmeralda, Djali, and Phoebus. An odd group, really; a Romani woman, a goat, Captain of the Guard, and a Hunchback. Not exactly the easiest way to avoid attention. Esmeralda turned her attention back to the bell ringer, helping him up and making sure he was alright.

"What are you doing up here?" She demanded, still standing in front of the man so Étoile could not see him.

"I told you, I came to speak to the bell ringer." She shifted her weight from one foot to another. The only light to help her eyes in the dark were a few dim candles that flickered violently in the wind.

“I told you to stay downstairs." Esmeralda's voice was low, protective.

"I couldn't help it. I just wanted to speak to him if I could."

"Esmeralda." Quasimodo spoke to her and stopped her with a strong hand on her slender arm. Slowly, she exhaled her annoyance and stepped aside, Quasimodo's hands resuming their fidgeting in front of him.

"Um. Hello, my name is Étoile de Provins. I've traveled a long way to find out about-" As her eyes adjusted, she began to see the outline of the bell ringer's form and gasped sharply seeing the way that he walked forward. The candle behind him outlined his hunched form and cast a terrifying shadow onto the floor in front of her, licking at her feet. She scanned her wide open eyes from the shadow on the floor to his legs, thick and strong with years of use, up to his twisted torso and couldn't help but gape. She could not see his face with the lack of light, but was almost too scared to even want to. "I...."

Quasimodo retreated slightly, his face being hidden behind his red locks. The fear in her voice was a devastating reminder that despite all that he had overcome, at face value he was still a monster.

' _The world is cruel... The world is wicked..._ ' He froze as the voice resonated within his temples.

"What do you wish to know, Étoile?" Esmeralda pushed forward, now noticing the pain of her friend.

"I..." she breathed out and felt her feet move back towards the stairs. "I'm sorry. I'll come back at a later time!"

Running down the stairs and back out of the tower, she reached the winding staircase and flew down it faster than her head could keep up with her feet. She could hear the patter of feet behind her, as well as Esmeralda's voice chasing after her, but that kept her running faster. She reached the Sanctuary, almost crashing into the Archdeacon snuffing the flames of the candelabras as she ran for the front door. Esmeralda came crashing down behind her, the Archdeacon beginning to speak up, but his voice dying as she tore past him. Étoile hurried down the stairs and ducked left out of the Cathedral, taking shelter behind a large statue and cupping her free hand over her mouth. Esmeralda stood in front of the Cathedral, scanning the area for a few minutes before turning around and retreating back through the front doors. Once she was gone, Étoile removed her hand from her mouth and heaved a painful exhale of poisoned breath.

'He... He can't be the bell ringer. I don't know what he even is. I don't ever want to go back up there.' She shook, unsure of what she had just seen. She had reserved a room at an inn for a few days to which she began to walk, pausing only to look back around as a low, sad song began to ring from the towers above.

~

The next day, Étoile set out early in the morning to see if she could gather any information on either her father or Quasimodo.  No one had heard of her father at all and without the name of where he even stayed, it would be almost impossible to find out.  The closer she wandered to the Cathedral, however, the more people had to say about Quasimodo and the mysterious man, Claude Frollo.  

She had heard of the Judge when her father had first been requested to join the effort in his war against the Romani people.  While her family didn't agree with Frollo, Étoile's father was one of the most respected soldiers in their town, and he couldn't say no to someone who was of direct connection with the church and government.  Étoile couldn't help but wonder why someone would be so intent on chasing out a race of people from a city, let alone a country.

Along her travels, she got more than she bargained for asking about the bell ringer:

"He's an absolute hero."

"He killed the kindest person there was.  The only one to have the compassion to raise a monster like him.”

"He saved so many from the twisted grasp of the Judge.  We owe our town to him."

"He injured so many and has no remorse for what he's done!  The Captain has been protecting him ever since!"

"He's amazingly kind."

"He's a monster."

By the time nightfall had come, her head was almost split in two with all the stories and statements that buzzed around in her head.  As she sat in the inn room for her second night stay, she resolved that the next day she would try to head back to the Cathedral once more.  

She only had a few days left in Paris and she couldn't waste them if she was going to have some justice for what had happened to her father.  After a night of very little sleep, Étoile pulled her cloak tightly around her neck as heavy rain beat down against the roof tops and cobblestones.  There were no children laughing in the streets today, nor were there any delicious smells to hit her nose and comfort her.  The only sounds she could hear were her feet trotting through the wet puddles and the smell of damp stones.

Even in the rain, Notre Dame was an intimidating sight.  It stood tall against the clouds as the occasional lightning strike would streak across the sky.  Étoile stood in the doorway of the Cathedral for what seemed like hours before finally pushing the door open and shutting it behind her.  She was absolutely drenched, water having leaked through her cloak and onto her brown dress below.  Her hair dripped and she shivered at the cold that was trapped within her spacious surroundings.  After a quick look around to make sure that no one was watching her, she dashed for the staircase that she had come flying down just a few days before and began her ascent.

The painful flutters in her stomach had reached her heart and forced it to pound almost painfully against her chest.  As she closed the splintered wooden door behind her and started to climb the longer staircase to the bell tower, she could have sworn the bell ringer could hear it from where he resided above.  As she reached the top, she could hear the beating of the rain against stone and watched as the wind whipped the rain sideways.

Taking a deep breath, she ran back out into the rain, the wind much stronger here than what it looked.  She faltered in her steps and tried desperately to run forward, however the wind blinded her and the rain stung her face.  Her cloak whipped around wildly before hooking onto some of the ornamentation of the stone railing, the wind pushing her back towards it.  She felt her back hit the railing painfully and then, much to her absolute horror, she felt her one sturdy foot slip forward and her back fold over the railing.  Her heart stopped as she let out a piercing scream, arms flailing wildly to catch onto something as she closed her eyes and waited for what would happen next...

Suddenly, she was able to place her feet back down to the stone ground and pull herself back onto the correct side of the railing, looking back over her shoulder to see her cloak blow away with the wind, eventually hitting the ground.  Her breaths fell heavy as she realized the pressure on her hand and looked back, the bell ringer had grabbed her and stabilized her before she fell.

"Q-Quasimodo?"  She asked, eyes wide.

"Come inside."  He did not let go of her and pulled her towards the tower from which she had fled from the other night, letting go only once inside.  He refused to make eye contact and climbed the stairs up to the wooden platform, leaving Étoile to decide if she would stay there or climb after him.  Wishing not to feel the chill of the wind any longer, she followed.

The loft was much different in the daytime, even with the dark clouds covering the sun. She looked around at the plethora of beams that ran throughout the space as well as the statues that stared back at her with cold eyes.  She looked to find where the bell ringer had gone, but to no avail.

Moving gingerly through the room, she seated herself next to a table that was covered by a sheet on a wooden bench that, no doubt, had been there forever.  Something pulled the blue eyes of the woman up, remembering the shadows she had seen previously.  The bells were an incredible sight, they were varying sizes with different ornamentation carved into each of them.  They sparkled each time the lightning flashed, and she could hear a slight tone ring with each roll of thunder.

Finally, Quasimodo appeared again, his eyes still averting her gaze until he noticed her looking up and admiring the bells, much like a child.  He walked closer to her and held out his hand.  In it, a dry blanket.  Étoile's attention was brought back down from her fascination to what was being offered to her and gratefully accepted it, as shivers were running down her spine.  A heavy silence filled the tower until Étoile spoke up after a particularly loud clap of thunder.

"Thank you."  She said lamely, wishing she could have said more.  In the light that she was given, she was able to see Quasimodo's face.  The past day, she had dreamt up a horrible face for him, twisted and gruesome.  But now that she was seeing him, she didn't know if this was the same person she had spent almost her entire trip to Paris thinking about.  

Although his face did share in the abnormalities that his body underwent... It was soft.  He had a certain kindness that shone in his eyes.  A kindness that she had seen when she looked into them when he pulled her back from the tower's edge.

"You're not hurt, are you?"  He asked, giving her a once-over quickly.

"N-No.  I'm... Alright.  Apart from being scared half to death."  She added as an afterthought.

"Good."  Quasimodo stepped back and referred to their surroundings.  "It's not much, but you're welcome to wait the storm out up here if you want."

"That's... Very kind of you."

"You said your name was Étoile?"  Shocked that he remembered, she nodded slowly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.  "That's definitely a name."  He smiled weakly at her and brushed a few wet strands of red off his face.  Quasimodo could hear the gargoyles behind him, trying to tell him to keep his hands occupied with something other than wringing in front of him.

"Same with you."  Étoile said without thinking.  Quasimodo seemed distracted by something and she feared she had offended him.  As long as his eyes were elsewhere, she continued to look over his curious form, each centimeter raising question as to how he ended up like this.  After a few moments, his eyes returned to her, and hers met with the floor.

"You wanted to ask me something?"  He inquired, adjusting his tunic slightly.  He must have changed in the time that he had disappeared to fetch her a blanket.

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" Étoile ran a hand through her tangled curls.  "Did you... That is… My..." She mentally hit herself.  Why couldn't she say what she wanted to?  Just the other day she had the monologue planned out: 'How could you possibly do what you did?  Just pouring death down upon the poor souls of this city?  Did you ever stop to think just how that might impact everyone else?  What kind of monster do you have to be to do something like that?'  And she had planned on being loud.  Very loud.  Louder than the thunder that made her jump. "How long have you been here?"  She found herself asking in place of all of the terrible things running through her mind.

"I've been here my whole life."  Quasimodo hobbled over past her to the parapet and looked out to the clouds above before retreating back from the rain.  "Ever since I can remember."  As Étoile's icy-steel eyes followed his movements, she was made aware of what was behind her, under the sheet.  A small figure poked out from below, painted with bright colors and a smiling face. She reached out and wrapped her slender fingers around it, pulling it to her and studying the craftsmanship.  She looked from the figure's face to Quasimodo's as he watched her movements ever so carefully.  Étoile turned completely around and lifted the sheet, her eyes met with a truly incredible sight to behold, a wood-crafted Paris, the same city she had been roaming around for three days now.  It was accurate down to the loose stones in the streets, and the figures were placed in their own respective buildings.  She looked to the paintings that were done of the stained glass windows of the Cathedral, remembering the colorful light that had painted her skin in the Sanctuary.  Her smile spread as she saw a figure of both the Captain and Esmeralda walking together.  Did they know each other?  She wondered.

In her amazement, her eyes were dragged back to the top of the Cathedral where a shorter figurine stood, hunched over with a green tunic and red hair.  Étoile traced her fingers over the form of Quasimodo, and felt his eyes bore into her with every movement.  She noticed another figure that was laying down next to where his own had been and picked it up.  The face was unfamiliar and the dress extremely different from any of the other figures she had seen.

"Who is this one of?"  She asked, turning it over in her hands.  Quasimodo just about leapt from where he was sitting to take the figurine back and place it atop the miniature Notre

"That..."  He cleared his throat.  "That was of my Master."

"Oh, that's nice.  Did he live here with you?"  Not making the connections between the stories she had heard and the obvious pain etched into the bell ringer's face, she pressed him. Catching onto to social cues wasn't really her strong point since she had grown up without any brothers or sisters to teach her the finer point of interacting.

"N-not exactly."

"Oh.  Well then he visited you a lot?"

"Yes.  All the time."

"Will he be coming today?"  She asked and watched as Quasimodo's face screwed up for just a second.

"No.  He won't be.  He died a few months ago."  A flash of lightning.

"Oh.  I see.  I'm sorry."  Feeling guilty once again for her actions, she shifted on the bench and allowed her shoulders to slip out of the blanket she had been given.  Looking at the face of the figurine, it scowled back at her, something striking her deep within.

"Frollo raised me from when I was a baby."  Quasimodo seemed as though he wanted to say more, but it died out.  Until the name clicked with Étoile, the silence stood.

"Frollo?  Judge Claude Frollo?"  She spat out.

"You knew him?"  Quasimodo narrowed his one good eye at her in question.

"No.  I knew of him, he's the one that requested my Father to come here."

“I see."  Quasimodo moved as a distant roll of thunder made its way through the bell tower.  The rain had lightened considerably.  "Then you've come to bring your father back home with you?"

"I was going to, except he's gone."  She said, the flames of her anger returning to her, remembering that she was talking to the man responsible for the response she had to give.

"Gone as in died?  That's terrible.  I never knew my Father, but I can only imagine what it's like."  Such kindness in his tone that extinguished any fire left in her abdomen and guilt to arise.  "I'm sorry."  He said almost in a whisper.

"N-no, not gone like that," she lied.  "He's missing.  I came here to see if I could find him."  Why had that lie come out?  Why was she retracting the truth she knew?  She was here to find justice for her father, not to turn the other cheek.  She tried to motivate herself to say what was really happening and looked back to the man in front of her.

"What does he look like?  I usually see a lot from up here and as of late, I've been going out around the town.  I might have seen him."  Quasimodo offered.

"He-" The truth died and her head fell low.  "He looks just like me.  Blonde curly hair, same facial structure.  His eyes are bluer than mine though, and his skin darker."  She couldn't make eye contact.

"Bluer than yours?  They must be made of the sky itself."  Quasimodo said with an airy laugh.  Étoile could feel embarrassment rise along with the terrible mixture of emotions currently coursing through her.  "I haven't really seen anyone around that looks like you, though.  Maybe Esmeralda would have though.  She dances in the streets and sees a lot of different people."

"Maybe."  Étoile finally looked up to the soft smile that had found its way to the hunchback's lips.  "Quasimodo, I'm sorry for what happened the other night.  And after that, you still pulled me back from falling.  You are too kind to be living in a world full of people like us."

"That's not true."  He said, his smile becoming more melancholy.  "I just don't want to see anyone else die at the foot of this Cathedral."

 

 


	3. There are so many

Time had flown over Étoile's head quicker than she had realized before she found herself wandering back to her inn for the night. The town was silent other than the laughter from the bars that filled the desolate streets every few minutes. In between the laughs, the sounds of men and their women of the night echoed uncomfortably through the alley ways. She was unfortunate to catch sight of one or two couples, her face flushing brightly as she stared at her feet. Having lost her cloak earlier, she tugged the blanket that Quasimodo had lent her around her body, fending away the cold only slightly. Goosebumps littered her legs as she finally turned to her place of rest. The innkeeper was an older woman with baggy eyes who watched her walk down the hallway to her room.

"Mademoiselle..." She called after Étoile, however the young woman was so tired and stuck in her own thoughts that she didn't seem to hear her as she closed the wooden door behind her. After a few moments, she thought she heard the woman's voice again but shrugged it off. It could wait until morning.

Étoile stripped herself of her still damp clothing, her feet sighing in relief as they were allowed out of the squishy prison they were forced to stay in for the last few hours. Sitting on her bedding, she wrapped herself in the blankets, feeling grateful for the cold they stole out of her body. Her eyes traced the forms of her laid out clothes before falling onto the blanket the bell ringer had offered her and her face dropped. She was supposed to head back to Provins the day after next, and she would have nothing to offer her mother other than the condolences that Captain Phoebus had given her. She had failed her father in getting answers to the questions she so desperately needed to get from the hunchback. Every time the questions would raise up into her throat, burning like bile, she would swallow them back down.

He just looked so sad... Hurt. Perhaps what the Captain had said was true, that he really didn't intend to hurt anyone, it was just a byproduct of all that occurred that night. Her heart suffered a twang of pain, her slender fingers landing between her breasts over the slamming organ. She heard a hiccup escape her throat as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and fell to the blankets in her lap. Such a coward, she was. She was wronged, and the person who wronged her was mere centimeters from her for hours, and she did nothing. Pathetic. She could hear her mother in the back of her mind.

' _Étoile, really. That's enough. If you get yourself worked up like this you'll only end up sick. You must do what you can so that you can live with yourself. Not others. You are in charge of you and only you._ '

Étoile had a nasty habit of crying over every stupid little thing to the point that most people in town would roll their eyes when she started. Over the years, she had tried her hardest to stop herself when she could feel that lump rise in her throat, but she still wasn't very good at it. At the very least she made herself more upset by realizing it, but not being able to do anything. She laid herself down, her head feeling heavy on her pillow as her eyes fluttered open and shut every few moments. Tears ran down the sides of her face and pooled by her ears, to which she turned onto her side to avoid the uncomfortable sensation. She began to lose sense of time again and realized she was drifting off to sleep... One thing her mind would not leave her alone about was the fact that she had to go back to Notre Dame and talk to Quasimodo, if it was the last thing should would ever do.

~

The next morning brought with it a warm breeze that fluttered through the town. It was warmer than it had been Étoile's entire trip, and she was excited to walk around town to shop for things to bring her mother. Her mother insisted that she didn't need anything, but Étoile knew for a fact that she could find something her mother would love to have. She put on her stiff dress that had finally dried overnight and attempted to straighten it out best she could, but gave up after a few moments of the stubborn wrinkles remaining stationary, as if they had been there all along. Stepping out of her room with Quasimodo's blanket wrapped around her arms to protect the fair skin, she began walking for the door. The inn keeper from last night stepped in her way, however.

"Étoile de Provins?" She asked, her voice weak with age.

"Yes?" Surprised at her own name, she felt her eyebrows raise.

"Mademoiselle, I apologize for the lateness of this. This note arrived for you shortly after you left yesterday morning. I tried to stay awake to give it to you last night but you seemed to be lost in thought." The woman extended a wrinkled hand with a piece of parchment paper in it.

"Oh. Thank you." She bid the woman good day before stepping out into the warm sunlight, feeling it pool warmth onto the top of her head as her curls shined around her face. She walked in no direction in particular as she unfolded the note, her eyes squinting in the mid-morning sun that reflected off of it. She wasn't sure what to expect, but it sure wasn't the note the she was currently reading.

' _Dearest Étoile,_

_I am so incredibly sorry to write this to you, I wish I didn't have to. When you left, my doctors told me that I didn't have much longer, that my body was shutting down. By the time you read this note, I fear that I will be no more for this world. My beautiful daughter, I've watched you grow up to be such a beautiful and kind young woman. I only wish that I could be there to see you grow up to be so much more. Please, take whatever savings you may have brought and live in Paris with your Father. It was his dream to live in an incredible place such as that. I hope that even without me there, you'll both be able to live out dreams that neither of you ever thought possible._

_Never change, Étoile._

_My beautiful, Étoile_.'

The handwriting became harder to read as she went along the letter and could almost see the shaking that must have been occurring while the letter was being written. As she reached the last sentence, her heart fell, trying to see if there was a date anywhere on the paper, finding much to her dismay that there wasn't. It must have been sent at least two or three days prior to when she had just arrived in Paris. Her mother had to have been gone for at least that time. A similar feeling to that of which she experienced in the Palace of Justice mere days before returned to her; her world turned on its side. She waited for the tears to prick her eyes only to find that she had none... She was just... Empty. Numb. A burning numbness that coursed throughout her body like a poison, set to kill her slowly. Her feet changed direction from bringing her further into town. Clutching the note in her sweaty palms, she walked at a quicker pace than she would usually take, the warmth from the sun now seeming to suffocate her.

~

 

Étoile once again lost track of time as she sat in the Sanctuary of Notre Dame. She stared straight ahead of her for so long, her eyes felt itchy, and she couldn't remember when she had last blinked. While fluttering her eyelids a few times, she turned to look around at the people who were present in the room with her, and all the faces had changed since she had first walked the checkered floor. The note was still sitting in her hand, her nails absentmindedly raking over the edges, feeling every fiber and grain in the paper. Memories of her family flashed through her mind every so often and set her stomach on fire in realizing that those memories would stay in the past. She was an orphan, although too old to be called that at this point in her life.

Most girls her age were married off by now and had children. In caring for her mother while her father was off fighting, Étoile had lost any chance she had. She didn't exactly mind, the idea of marrying someone who might as well have been a stranger was less than appealing; but now she felt alone. No parents to run home to, no husband to support her. Just Étoile. And she had never felt smaller. The Archdeacon was preparing himself for the next mass, adjusting his robes while his eyes came to set on the blonde girl sitting. She had been around quite a bit the last few days, and if he hadn't been mistaken, had also been up in the bell tower. He walked over to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder and making her jump.

"I apologize for startling you, my child." He passed with a warm smile as her eyes met his. "I have never seen you before until the past few days. Are you a traveler?"

"Yes, I suppose I am." She sighed. "What has happened to cause you so much pain?"

"My parents. My father was killed here and I just found out that my mother has passed as well." Her gaze dropped back to the floor.

"I see. So young." He noted while placing a soft hand under her chin and examining her face. "Would you like me to say a prayer for them during mass, my child?"

"I... I guess that would be nice." Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud ringing of bells above her head as she looked up to the ceiling.

"I'll make sure to." The Archdeacon removed his hand with one last smile and began to walk towards the altar, becoming confused when he looked back to where the girl had sat only moments before. His eyes were met with nothing, as if she had never been there at all. Meanwhile, Étoile had found her way back to the stairs to which she was becoming quite accustomed to, and walked up them at the same pace she had taken walking to the Cathedral. She had many things running through her mind, however, none of them were the questions she had been dead-set to ask if spoken to the night before. This time, she just wanted to talk to someone. And even if he didn't understand, she was sure he would listen.

As she crested the top of the stairs and breathed in the fresh air, her ears were met with the still loudly ringing bells that increased with volume with the steps she took forward. She had to stop herself from walking into the tower, for their voices rang too loud for her unadjusted ears. A few more moments passed before the bells had reached a cadence, and she proceeded to the wooden stairs in front of her.

"Quasimodo?" She called out in a timid voice. She stood on the wooden platform and looked for him but saw no sign of him. She was just about to call for him again when he landed heavily on his feet in front of her, a squeak of surprise falling from her mouth.

"Étoile? What are you doing here?" He asked wiping his hands on a rag he had been carrying.

"I, uh..." She stammered and looked down. She felt her nerves get the best of her and realized how pathetic she was. Coming to a man that she had felt enough rage to kill, only now coming to talk to him about how scared she felt. "I wanted to give you this back." Étoile untied the crimson fabric from around her arms and held it out to Quasimodo, who looked at her with curiosity in his eyes.

"You... Could have kept it, you know." He said looking from it to her. He took the blanket into his large hand and saw the unchanging expression the girl still wore. "T-thank you." He smiled lightly trying to lift the awkwardness of the girl's melancholy. Once he realized she wasn't going to say anything else, he moved towards the table at which she had sat at the night before, now bathed in the sun light.

"Do you want to sit down?" She nodded and sat, pulling at her dress in another attempt to straighten it out. "Something's wrong." He said with a flat tone, jerking Étoile out of her own stew of misery. Finally, for the first time all day, her eyes teared up and she buried her freckled face in her hands, the note fluttering to the floor. Alarmed at her reaction, Quasimodo stepped back, not totally sure how to go about handling the situation in front of him. He took a few steps forward, bending down to pick the paper up that had opened slightly. He glanced at the paper, recognizing most of the words from his teachings with Frollo, and getting the general idea of it. Looking from the paper back to her, he waited.

"I don't know what to do. Or where to go." Étoile choked out, muffled by the hands that hid her face. "I don't have anyone to go to. All of my friends have moved far away with their husbands. My Mother is dead. My father is..." She bit her lip. "...missing. A-And I'm just here. What am I going to do?" Another sob wracked her body and Quasimodo sat next to her. He awkwardly looked around at the gargoyles who motioned for him to do something, anything really, to console the poor girl. With extreme hesitation, he lifted his hand and laid it gently on her shoulder, patting it lightly as she got out her emotions. The blanket he had been holding had long since been forgotten on the floor next to the note he had skimmed.

"I uh... I'm sorry." He stammered out. Étoile nodded her head, her sobs becoming fewer and far between. She finally removed her hands from her face and rubbed her eyes, her flushed cheeks hiding her freckles from sight. Quasimodo stood up and retrieved the water bucket from the corner of the room, taking a ladle full and offering it to her, hand cupped under it. She accepted and drank, clearing her throat and sighing heavily, turning her eyes out towards the sunny sky.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come up here and bothered you with all of my issues. It's not as if you've known me forever." Pathetic, her mind cursed at her. "I'm really good at crying and making people feel really awkward. Kind of a skill of mine." She passed wiping her face on the shoulder of her sleeves one more time. Quasimodo laughed lightly and placed the ladle back in the bucket beside him.

"Better to be good at something than nothing at all." He offered a warm smile in her direction, which she returned, albeit without looking at him.

"You have such a positive way of looking at things." Étoile finally retracted her eyes from the birds flying outside and looked to the bell ringer's face, his eyes darting from her as she looked at him. "I don't know how but you've already made me feel a hundred times better." She stretched her arms above her head while standing up.

"Well, that's always good. Not exactly sure what I did to help but..." He trailed off, running his fingers through his messy hair. Étoile didn't respond and Quasimodo looked to her, seeing her gaze being pulled upwards.

"The bells sparkle so much in the sunlight. You must work so hard to keep them so clean." She passed and Quasimodo felt his cheeks darken.

"I-I-I... I do. I try to clean them every morning."

"Do you have a favorite one?" Étoile's blue eyes sparkled in the sun light coming from behind the seated man as he stood up and moved to where she was standing. Étoile couldn't help but notice how much taller she was than him and wondered how much taller he would stand if it wasn't for his form. Her mind scolded her again to not ask such things, and she looked in a direction that he pointed in.

"That's Big Marie. She's probably the most impressive out of all of them. I try not to ring her too often if I can avoid it, that way when I do, it means more." Étoile watched as he smiled warmly at Big Marie, the feeling of something akin to love radiating from his emerald eyes. He noticed her watching him and moved his eyes away.

"You really do care for these bells." She said simply, in awe of just how wonderful Quasimodo became with the passing of each moment. Just as she was going to say something more, the sound of footsteps stole her attention as she turned around, the form of Esmeralda emerging into the sun light.

"Oh, hello again." Esmeralda smiled coyly and looked behind her as none other than Captain Phoebus appeared carrying a... goat?

"Quasi, are you still up to walking around the market today? Your friend can come with us." Phoebus' eyes bore directly down into Étoile as he stared at her with question. The goat that had accompanied the two was freely running around and walked up to her gingerly, not sure if she could be trusted.

"That's alright... I can just go." Étoile said nervously as she stuck her hand out to the goat. Djali looked at it with his head cocked to the side for a moment before he offered a lick to it and trotted back over to Esmeralda.

"You should come with us." Quasimodo's audacity surprised even him. Étoile may have been imagining it but she could have sworn Esmeralda smiled a bit wider before she cleared her throat.

"Oh, this is Phoebus." Esmeralda stepped aside, her purple skirt swishing around her ankles.

"I know." Étoile said, earning the eyes of all in the room.  "That is... I met him when I needed help with my uh, Father. Hello, Captain." The eyes had all shifted to the Captain in question as he merely nodded in response.

"No need for formalities here, Étoile. Phoebus is fine."

"So then you're among friends!" Esmeralda said, snaking her arm through Phoebus' in a swift motion. Oh. So they more than knew each other... They were together. A Romani woman and a soldier together in these parts? Now she truly had seen everything.

"I... Suppose I could come along. It seems as though my stay in Paris is going to be longer than expected. I guess I should look around a bit more." Étoile said quietly. She hadn't noticed that Quasimodo had gone to retrieve a cloak in the time that Esmeralda had taken to convince her to join. He placed it over his shoulders and pulled the hood up, his red hair disappearing.

"We'll have to show you the best kept secrets of Paris, right Quasi?" Esmeralda spoke with such a beautiful tone. Étoile had a feeling that she could say anything and make it sound appealing.

"I'm still learning them, myself." He answered shyly. The group began to move towards the stairs of the tower, Étoile fidgeting with a rogue curl of hair. She tried to ignore the accusatory gaze that she couldn't help but notice from Phoebus.

~


	4. You're a Surprising Person

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait, this past semester was a doozy. Thank you all for reading/providing feedback/kudos!

Exiting the main doors onto the street, the group reformed and picked a direction to begin walking. Étoile now took the time to look around to all the faces gathered to enjoy the day, being temporarily made to forget the pain of earlier. She found herself back within the numbness she had taken shelter in before, although this time, it really was numbness and not pain. Esmeralda took her place in between Phoebus and Quasimodo, smiling at the small children that stared at their group in awe. Even with Phoebus not in armor, he still had something about him that demanded attention, Esmeralda wore clothes of bright purple and green, the goat called Djali pranced behind the group, and of course Quasimodo gained many stares, his walk not that of an ordinary person. Étoile also felt stares on her, and couldn't decide if it was out of unfamiliarity or whether they were just wondering how she (probably the most "normal" out of the group) found her way into such a bunch of misfits. Although self-conscious of the attention, she attempted to shrug it off and joined into the light hearted conversation of the group.

It felt nice to be in such a large city with people she kind of knew. She hadn't been able to be around a group of people around her age in so long, what with the constant care that her mother required. She mentally cursed herself for having such an awful thought about her mother, although she also assured herself that she did not intend for the observation to be malicious. Being able to laugh was refreshing, and marveling at the new flower buds around her was raising her spirits up. Perhaps it was a good thing that she had come to see Quasimodo that afternoon.

"Étoile, where have you been staying?" Esmeralda looked to her.

"An inn a little distance from the Cathedral. It's a nice place but I suppose I'll have to look for permanent lodging soon." She sighed and tried her hand at the sentence again. "I just found out my mother has passed away and she wanted me to stay here with my father."

"I'm sure we could help you with that." The woman flipped her shining hair over her bare shoulder.

"That would be great." Étoile felt so grateful that she had managed to meet what seemed like the nicest people in town. Music coming from a distance in front of her pulled her attention forward; a few musicians played accompaniment to a tall, lanky man who danced around with puppets on his hands. They were surrounded by children who were clapping and dancing with the man, his masked face turning to the group’s direction.

"Ah! La Esmeralda and her entourage!" He said bounding over to them. Étoile didn't know what to think of the man in his bright purples and yellows... And that hat.

"Clopin." Esmeralda greeted him with a hug. Once the two had pulled back, he glanced curiously at the group. "I see the Captain of the Guard, the Hunchback, and... who is this lovely mademoiselle?" He had taken Étoile into his arms, one hand on her hip and another on her hand as if they were going to dance.

"I-I'm Étoile." She stammered out, a bit surprised at the man's audacity. But he seemed to know Esmeralda, so he was safe, was he not?

"Ah, c'est magnifique!" He smirked and pulled her along with him back to the group of clapping children, dancing with her in the middle of the small bobbing bodies around them. Étoile managed to shake off her alarm and was laughing within seconds of being twirled around by Clopin, who sang a song with silly words that didn't make any sense.

After a twirl around the group, she noticed that Esmeralda had Phoebus join her in a dance, her hips swishing hypnotically to the tambourine playing while the Captain awkwardly tried to keep up. The children were dancing with Djali, the goat standing on his hind legs as two children held his hooves. Clopin had let go of Étoile in favor of pulling his puppets out again and speaking in silly voices to entertain the children further. Étoile stopped dancing and walked over to where Quasimodo stood, watching as everyone else laughed and had fun.

She stuck out a slender hand to the man, who looked at her, puzzled. She stuck her hand more forcefully to him, and once she felt his hand close around her's, she pulled him into the group of giggling children, twirling Quasimodo in a similar way to which Clopin had twirled her moments ago. Esmeralda looked over her shoulder and laughed, to which the bell ringer seemed to release the tension he held towards the situation, and grabbed Étoile's other hand, shifting the lead to himself. The music kept the group twisting and turning to the final notes, and everyone laughed, out of breath. Esmeralda took Clopin's gloved hands in hers, her laughter dying out within the first few words of her sentence.

"Thank you, my friend."

"The pleasure is all mine, mon amie! Always an honor to dance with La Esmeralda!" Clopin kissed her hand before turning to Étoile. "And you as well, you could have quite the dancing future, my shining star!" Etoile blushed as Clopin kissed her hand as well before returning to counting the coins that had been thrown by the children and adults watching on the sidelines. The group returned to their walking formation, all four laughing.

"That was so fun, I've never danced in the street like that before!" Étoile beamed.

"It never loses its appeal." Esmeralda winked and went back to chuckling with Phoebus. Étoile felt Quasimodo's gaze fall on her and looked down next to her to smile at him.

"Did you have fun?" She asked him and he smiled warmly, giving a slight nod. The setting sun sparkled in his eyes and Étoile cocked her head to the side. "Why not walk around without the hood on?" She heard the couple walking next to them quiet themselves.

"O-oh... Um, no. I don't think so." Quasimodo retreated back into himself and looked down at the cobblestones under his feet.

"Why not? We can barely see you in the shadows there!" Pulling in front of him, Étoile grabbed his hood with her light fingers. Quasimodo froze and instinctively pulled his face down away from her.

"That's the point." He mumbled quietly and began pushing forward again. Étoile bit her lower lip and looked to the couple for some kind of confirmation that he was okay only to see them walking forward as well.

After a short silence, the group had made it to a small market, some stands already closed up, but most still open. The happy-go-lucky nature of the four returned as they got there, looking at the fruits that lined the streets in brilliant fresh colors despite the sun beginning to fall behind the buildings. Esmeralda was picking out fruits throughout the stands, asking Phoebus which he preferred to the other, while Djali chomped on some fruit that had fallen to the ground. Étoile walked the stand-lined street looking at things, although not keen on buying them.

'I'm going to have to start saving what little I brought.' She told herself. She might have to pay a lot to find some place new to live, especially on her own. She didn't even have a job. The thought made her stomach churn as she looked over at Esmeralda, who walked towards her with a large basket of fruit.

"Étoile, are you buying anything?"

"No, my favorite fruits aren't in season yet. I'll have to wait until the summer draws closer." She lied only slightly.

"Which are they?"

"Strawberries." She smiled and turned back to a stand, displayed with handmade woven baskets. Esmeralda had joined her, while Phoebus and Quasimodo talked a little distance away. Étoile's eyes traveled to the two of them and suddenly, a terrifying thought struck her.

What if Phoebus told him about her father? What if he suddenly realized why she was originally coming to talk to him? Quasimodo was destroying himself over what happened already, she didn't want to be another nail in the coffin of him blaming himself for everything that had transpired. She shifted nervously as they walked back over to rejoin the women.

The sky had begun to darken considerably in the time that they traveled through the marketplace, and more of the carts were beginning to pack up. As they began to make their way out of the area, they passed by a flower stand, Djali munching away happily on the flowers that had dropped, as the owner was packing up some of the better ones.

"Take one for your lady." The owner winked, Phoebus walking over and taken a stem, smelling it, then handing it to Esmeralda.

"I'm a man who takes an order seriously." He said with a smile, and kissed her temple as she laughed him off. The cart owner then turned to Étoile, who was standing with Quasimodo.

"And aren't you going to bring one to your lady as well?" He asked and the two looked from him to each other and shook their heads.

"I-I-I-" Étoile stuttered rather loudly while the bell ringer continued to shake his head.

"We're not... That is... I..." He put a hand to his face, wishing he could just sink into his cloak and disappear. He could feel his cheeks grow hot with the assumption. The cart owner merely shrugged and removed himself from the marketplace, ready to go home for the day, while Étoile and Quasimodo stood frozen in place, absolutely mortified. Phoebus shot a glance to Esmeralda.

"Well, shall we be on our way, then?" He asked cheerfully and the other two nodded slowly. Étoile began to walk forward, her eyes focused very intently on the ground, so much so that she almost tripped over Djali as he trotted behind the woman in front of her. She swung her right arm around her back to capture her left forearm in her grasp, trying to do something with her hands that would allow for any kind of release from the embarrassment she felt. She squeezed her arm. Hard.

Once again, silence draped heavily over everyone with some quiet small talk between the couple in front. Plans of reform for the city fell from the Captain's mouth, while sarcastic statements came from the other. She wished more than anything that they would turn their attentions back to the duo walking silently. Quasimodo felt like such an idiot. His stomach burned with nerves and he needed to calm himself down, but every time he tried to see how the slightly taller woman next to him looked, he dropped his eyes immediately. He twirled the stem of a flower in between his fingers and sighed to himself.

The Cathedral had finally come into view, after a walk that seemed like it had taken forever.

"If you would like, you're all welcome to come up to the bell tower with me. I have to ring for the late mass soon, though..."

"That sounds fun. I actually have something just for the occasion. A good end to a good day." Esmeralda reached under the fruit she had bought in her basket revealing a large bottle of liquid. Phoebus smirked and nodded while Quasimodo began to walk forward. In a giant bout of courage, he took the flower stem he held and pushed it against the hand that linked Étoile's arm behind her back. Her eyes flew open as she unlatched her fingers, and he pushed the object between them. He walked forward, his hood still shielding his face from Étoile, who looked down at her hand. A pink flower resided, her eyes shooting up to see nothing but the back of the bell ringer as he walked through the Cathedral doors.

~

It was cozy in the bell tower with nothing but candlelight to illuminate the room. Once Quasimodo had finished ringing the bells for the night, he set up a small square with blankets for them all to sit on, and fetched some cups that he had kept from Frollo. Esmeralda poured some of the home made wine into each of the cups, toasting to a good day with friends. She took out a knife that she had strapped to her leg (what was that for, Étoile wondered) and sliced up some fruit for everyone in the room to eat. Étoile sipped her drink slowly, watching the flames flicker and lick at the walls surrounding them.

"Let me see your hand, Étoile." Esmeralda said taking Étoile's hand in hers and turning it over to see her palm. The woman's finger traced several lines of her palm, pointing to each as she spoke. "This line means that you will have a decently long life. This one here, the curve means that you will definitely have good health throughout that life. And this twisting of this one means that your soul aches for someone else. You don't like to be alone." Étoile watched in fascination as Esmeralda read her palm. Quasimodo watched too, pausing only to sip at the cup in between his hands. "This last line over here means that you will suffer great loss at some point in your life. There are some holes in that line that show it will happen at least twice."

"That's amazing, Esmeralda." Étoile said breathlessly as she pulled her hand back and stared at it herself. She had never seen anyone read a palm before. Her mother explained that it was all an act that performers put on to take money from foolish people, but it seemed believable to her. Perhaps she was a fool.

As the night grew older, the bottle that had sat in between the quartet had diminished completely as Esmeralda emptied the last round into everyone's cups. After those too had been finished, she stood up to gather her sleeping companion, the goat barely moving as she held him. Phoebus stood up as well and stretched.

"We should be headed home, the Captain gets cranky if he doesn't get enough sleep." Phoebus rolled his eyes at the comment as everyone exchanged their good nights. Étoile figured it was time for her to head out as well. She felt extremely warm and her head swam as she attempted to stand up, her legs no longer wanting to work. She fell backwards onto her bottom and laughed.

"Whoops, guess my legs don't want to go." Étoile never drank at home but the wine kept being poured so she had kept drinking. She looked over to the bell ringer, who was flushed in the face but didn't seem as affected as she. "I'll go as soon as I get my footing." She reassured and tried to stand up again, grabbing the wall for support. "There we go!" Quasimodo watched her sway as she tried to take a few steps forward without falling, and managed to do so only barely. He heard one of the gargoyles whisper to him.

" _You can't let her go out in the streets like that, she'll be kidnapped_." He sighed and nodded. While he wasn't as bad off as Étoile was, he wasn't exactly willing to walk halfway across town at this time of night either.

"Étoile?" He spoke up quietly.

"Yes, Quasi?" She asked grinning brightly. He felt heat in his stomach at her calling him by the nickname.

"Why don't you stay here tonight? It's not safe for you to walk back on your own. I should have sent you with Phoebus and Esmeralda." The last part he said more to himself. "No, no, no," Étoile shook her hands in front of her.

"I can't put you out like that! I already waltzed up here to cry about my lack of family today. I can't stay here."

"I know, it's not much... But just until morning." He offered his hand to her to show her to where he normally slept.

"Quasi, I don't understand why you're so kind." Étoile stared at him. "You've hardly known me for three or so days and you offer to let me stay here? That's so odd, I've never met someone quite like you."

"W-well... There's really not anyone like me. At least that I've met." His hands twisted in front of him thinking more about his form more than personality. He heard the gargoyles tell him to stop but he ignored them.

"What about your father? Or your mother? Didn't they have something like you do?" She asked, not quite paying attention to what was coming out of her mouth.

"I... I don't know. I never knew my parents." He admitted while nervously chewing on his bottom lip with his larger front teeth. He noticed Étoile's change in expression. "My Mother was killed on the steps of the Cathedral." Étoile's mind cleared for a brief moment.

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that." Putting her face in her hand, her fingertips brushed the flower Quasimodo had given her, which she had tucked behind her ear.

"It's alright." He said attempting to hide his obvious discomfort. "You told me about your family today, after all."

"Yes, I suppose I did." Suddenly feeling the situation turn heavy, Quasimodo offered his hand to her again.

"I'll show you to where you can stay."

"Oh, sure, thank you." Slowly pushing her hand forward, his hand closed around hers and offered a slight tug as he began walking under beams to a previously unseen staircase. As he climbed in front of her, Étoile watched how he walked and moved with each step. Despite his deformities, he had an astounding way of moving that perplexed her greatly. She had watched him from a distance when he had rung the bells earlier in the night, seeing how he threw himself from beam to beam with the ease and confidence that comes only with practice. While he moved in an unorthodox way, it was as graceful a way as she had ever seen. He limped when on flat ground due to his upper body but when climbing beams and stairs, his motions were fluid, as though the steps evened out his weight in such a way that it was easier for him.

As they reached another wooden flat, Quasimodo released her hand in favor of lighting a match to light the candles that sat in a large stone statue's hand. The room came into view, a makeshift bed on the floor in front of Étoile's feet. The space was still new to Quasimodo as well, having just moved his bedding off the ground floor. He had slept right by the stairs of the main loft, being easily accessible for when Frollo would arrive for his visits. Because they no longer happened, Quasimodo had rearranged.

"Where are you going to sleep?" She asked with concern rising in her voice.

"I can sleep down where we were sitting before." He shrugged. "I'm sorry it's not much." Once again he apologized.

"It's fine, Quasimodo, really. Thank you." She leaned forward and kissed his temple. "You've done a lot for me in such a short amount of time. I'm glad that I got to meet you." Smiling at him warmly, he looked at her with something akin to confusion glazed over in his

"I-I'll have to wake you up before the mass tomorrow. I don't want to hurt your ears." He tried to turn away.

"Don't worry, there's enough candle wax up here that I can always shove in there." She giggled and the heat returned to his stomach at the sound. "Good night, Quasi."

He descended the stairs to retreat to the seating area once again, ignoring the devious looks on the faces of the gargoyles. They tried to talk to him but he shhh'ed them, setting up some blankets by a beam and blowing out the nearly burnt out candles around him. He sat propped up against the beam, head resting back against it as well, and turned to look out to the night sky. He recognized the heat in his stomach and tried to push it away, feeling betrayed by his own inner emotions. After having his eyes closed for a second, he took one last look at the stars and settled in to sleep. He tried his hardest to focus on redrawing the night sky in his mind while he fell asleep rather than the how warm her hand had felt in his.

~


	5. I Could Stay Up Here Forever

If at all possible, Étoile slept even more poorly in the bell tower than she had during her entire trip thus far, images of her mother dying alone and scared plaguing her exhausted mind. The air in the bell tower was chilly, Étoile drawing the blankets to her desperately for warmth. They smelled heavily of incense, wood shavings, and... Something else she couldn't quite place.  

While she tossed and turned, her eyes would open, alarmed at just how black the tower got at night, the City lights doing nothing to reach the dizzying heights at which she was staying. She sighed, giving up hope of sleeping, and sat up from Quasimodo's bedding, her gaze falling outside of the vent to her left.  In a moment without sadness,  Étoile's eyes scanned the expansive sky outside, which she felt as though she was now a part of.  

She had never quite felt as close to heaven as she did within the walls of Notre Dame.  It was almost as if she could reach her palm outside and scoop up the stars and let them fall to the floor inside.  The thought made her smile. 

Newly adjusted blue eyes made their way back into the room, looking around at the plainness of it all.  The bedding was a simple shade and extremely worn.  The room was separated from the outside world by red curtains, doing little to keep anything hidden for long.  Étoile then found herself curiously eyeing a quaint wooden bookshelf, full of thickly bound books.  She crawled over gently, squinting to see more in the darkness.  She had recognized a few of the titles, sitting back on her legs with an eyebrow raised. 

Quasimodo could read?  Étoile reasoned with herself that being brought up by the likes of Frollo just may have had some advantages after all.  Someone as highly regarded as him must have been literate, therefore, must have taught the bell ringer.  How wonderful.  

The curly haired girl found herself wondering about the books that he must read and which ones they could talk about the next morning. After the few moments of clarity, Étoile laid back down upon her borrowed bedding, another light sigh falling from her lips.  

How could she be thinking of such trivial things such as books when the rest of her family had died that day?  Where did she go from here?  What of her poor mother, did they have a service for her when they found her?  Étoile's eyes stung painfully as tears streaked down her freckled face, falling into her hair and onto the pillow behind her. 

She closed her eyes to keep the tears at bay.  As her mind started to wander, she pretended that she was back within her childhood home with her mother and father laughing together.  One she imaged the house without them, a new wave of emptiness befell her.  Within that wave, she realized that she would have to make the journey back to her home, to finalize everything. 

Étoile was sure that it would be the last time that she would ever see her home, and she had to be sure that she took care in it.

 

~

With a borrowed cloak from Quasimodo, Étoile sat looking out of the vents of the main loft, a sense of dread and deep melancholy staining her fair features.  Quasimodo had offered her what little food he had, including some of the left overs from Esmeralda.  He sat across from her at a small table, watching her curiously.  She had not explained where she was going, but he had a pretty good idea.

Quasimodo had awakened her when the first rays of sun started to trickle through the  bell tower.  Étoile had just finally fallen asleep a short while before, her eyes red with lack of  sleep and swollen from the tears she had shed for the vast majority of the night.  Quasimodo felt badly for waking her, assuring her that she could sleep as long as she wanted after he had completed the ringing, but she declined.  The last he had heard out of her was her quiet request for a cloak to shade her from the sun.  Finally, with a sharp inhale, Étoile turned to the bell ringer.

"I'm going to return home for a short time.  To tie up loose ends that my Mother had." 

"Perhaps your father is awaiting you there.  Maybe that is where he took shelter." Quasimodo offered quietly, watching as Étoile's eyes watered.  He wondered if he had said something wrong. 

"Yes, perhaps."  She nodded, a sad smile forming at the corners of her lips.  She sniffled and wiped the tears from her eyes, looking up.  "I never thought that I would be homeless, but here I am.  My Mother desperately wanted us all to move to Paris, seeing how happy it made my Father.  But living here on just the funds that I have is nearly impossible.  I will be in deep trouble before the end of the month."  Étoile shook her head.  Even with any money that her parents had left for her, that would go very quickly within the City.  After all, at an inn, she would have to constantly pay for food, unable to cook for herself.  That in and of itself was enough wrack up enough costs.  Another thought brought yet more tears to her blue eyes, she could always return home, but how would she possibly take care of a home by herself.  Everyone in the village surely knew of both her father and mother's deaths.  Étoile would become a target for robbery, without question.  Bandits had the darnedest ways of finding out information like that, as much as she didn't want to admit it. 

"You... May stay here, if you like."  Quasimodo looked down at his plate, trying to keep his eyes preoccupied. 

"I couldn't ask that of you," Étoile breathlessly announced.  "You hardly know me and have shown so much kindness already.  I couldn't." 

"It's not much, b-but even if it's just temporary.  As long as you don't mind the bells."  Étoile stared at him, more amazed at his character each time he spoke. 

"You are too generous, Quasimodo." 

"Not at all.  I..."  He seemed a bit flustered at the compliment.  "I just want to help you.  Especially if your father isn't at your home.  He must be here, and it will be easier to find him if you are here."  Quasimodo reasoned, still not matching her gaze.  Étoile's gut twisted painfully in guilt, suddenly wondering if crushing his spirits in favor of telling the truth was more favorable.  She opened her mouth and closed it quickly, deciding that telling him horrifying news was not the way to thank someone for all that they had done. 

"Thank you."  She decided upon, after a few moments of debate.  "Tell me, would you like to come with me?" 

"I-I couldn't."  Quasimodo replied, now just as shocked as Étoile was moments before.  He watched her dark brow raise, pushing on in explanation.  "I must ring the bells.  There is no one else who can." 

"I figured you'd say that."  Étoile smirked at him, a dark blush forming on the bell ringer's cheeks.  "I will return in three days time."  She stood, straightening out her skirt and hair.  

Quasimodo watched her curiously as she walked across the flat.  "I hope you don't mind that I bring some things back with me." 

"N-No, not at all."  He stood, pointing a finger to a loft opposite the one she had stayed in the night previous.  "There is free space for it.  Bring whatever you like." 

"Thank you.  I will see you soon."  Étoile bade, not waiting for a response as she began her climb down the stairs.

 

~

Étoile's journey took much longer than expected, her own emotional exhaustion and poor weather putting her back two days or so.  Once she had made it through the gates and back into Paris, the knot that had formed within her stomach had tightened.  Where on Earth was she going to live?  How would she afford it?  What about a job?

Her head began pounding, the morning rays of the sun blinding her with intensified pangs.  Everyone seemed to be bustling around with their morning duties, having a set destination and task at hand, while she just seemed... Lost.  Étoile took her time in planting her feet against the cobblestones, walking in the direction of Notre Dame that had loomed in the distance since she had gotten through the outside forrest.  Her feet reached the stone stairs, bringing her to the ornate doors.  The door pushed open, almost too easily, and Étoile followed her familiar path to the spiral staircase. 

Footsteps echoed off of thick stone walls, not quite matching in time with the actual action.  The pack that weighed heavily upon Étoile's back pulled her in the opposite direction, the girl only barely catching herself before falling, her hand pressed against the wall to steady herself.  Cursing herself for her clumsiness, her blue eyes reopened, a familiar face coming into her sight.

"Quasi, hello."  She said, surprise evident in her voice, but a smile present nonetheless. "How did you...?" 

"I-I saw you approaching.  I thought I would come help with your things."  The hunchback held out his large hand, palm up, and Étoile stared at it.  Her stomach fluttered until she realized that he was waiting for her pack, quickly slinging it off of her shoulders and giving it over to him

"Thank you," Étoile stretched her spine, a crick forming.  "I'm sorry it took so long, the weather set me back." 

"That's fine."  Quasimodo stated plainly, his back to her.  "Esmeralda was a little worried, however." 

"I'll have to apologize when I see her."  Étoile thought out loud, breathing in deeply as they entered the bell tower.  It felt cozy, as if she were truly home.  However, she stopped herself from the feeling since this was no more home than anywhere else in Paris.  At least to her.  "I will truly miss Provins.  Although, there really is not much left for me there.”

“What is your village like?”  Quasimodo inquired, watching as  É toile made her way over to the pack he had placed down.

“Oh, it’s a quaint little place.  Everyone seems to know everything about everyone.  It’s hard to hide anything that occurs there.”  The mop-top woman explained, pulling out a few keepsakes from the makeshift bag.  “Luckily for me, most of the village had kept my house in order until I was able to get there.”

“I-I see.”  The bellringer continued to study her movements, his large hands clasping in front of him and beginning their nervous twitch.  “So, I assume your father was not there after all?”  He watched as  É toile froze momentarily, her breath hitching audibly as she dropped what she was holding.  She cleared her throat, never turning to face him.

“I’m afraid not.”

“I’m sorry.”  Quasimodo bit his lower lip with his large front teeth, feeling badly for asking.

“Don’t be sorry.  It’s just an unfortunate situation to be in, is all.  I just hope that I don’t find out that he’s gone.”  It pained  É toile to speak her words, knowing full well that that was the case.

“I can imagine.”

“Well, in any case, I hope you had a good few days?”   É toile’s cerulean eyes sparkled over her shoulder at him.

“I… Suppose so.”

“Did you do anything interesting?”  The woman watched his face twist into thought, Quasimodo’s eyes darting up towards the bells.  She saw something that looked like defeat, letting an airy laugh past her pale lips.  “I apologize, that was a silly question, I guess.”  A freckle coated hand covered her mouth as the laugh fought its way through.

“Well, I did clean out the loft above for you, that is, if you would like to stay here.”  His voice was so quiet, it was almost lost in the expansive space.  She looked up, a new piece of fabric hanging from the rafters that had not been there the few days prior.

“Oh, Quasi…  You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“I wanted to be sure that you would be comfortable.”  Quasimodo watched her stand, moving towards the wooden steps to the loft.  After Frollo had died, he moved his sleeping quarters from the main loft to one that was a floor above.  It got less of a draft, and not having to report the moment Frollo showed up, he could put it a little out of the way.  He enjoyed his new “bedroom” and figured that  É toile would like one similar.   É toile looked around momentarily before looking back over her shoulder.  

“It’s wonderful, thank you so much.”  Her smile warmed him, or perhaps the blood rushing to his cheeks did, he couldn’t be completely sure.

“Y-You’re welcome.”  Quasimodo smiled to her, something that  É toile hadn’t been expecting.  When he let his guard down and allowed his smile to shine through, he was rather endearing.

“But please, if I end up being in the way or doing something wrong, please don’t feel bad about telling me.  This is your home first and foremost.”  The woman said, joining him on the main loft once again.

“I don’t think that will be of concern.”  He nodded once, his smile never faltering.

~


	6. Shallow, drunken stupor

It had been a few weeks since  É toile had begun living within the belltower, her little corner of the space becoming more of a home than she had ever intended.  Her body had become accustomed to rising with Quasimodo, waking herself up to vacate the tower before he began ringing.  She would find her way down the stone steps to the Sanctuary to assist the Archdeacon, seeing what she could do to help him before and during morning mass.  It had become such a regular occurrence that the Archdeacon had insisted upon paying her for her services.  At first,  É toile protested, but after a week of the Archdeacon wearing her down, she finally accepted.

It was, indeed, nice to have a source of income.  Especially since she wasn’t paying for her living situation.  It was a welcomed change; living with a friend (could she call Quasimodo a friend at this point?  She hoped so) was so much different than living with her parents.  She had more freedom, but also more responsibility, taking on the role of making meals for them as well as going to the marketplace.   É toile would venture out after the morning duties were completed, never failing to ask Quasimodo if he wished to accompany her.  He would nearly always say no, finding it more rewarding to stay behind, but  É toile was persistent.  One day, she was sure he would say yes.

É toile walked slowly through the square, her latest haul of fruits and wine in a basket on her arm.  Over her opposite, a dress hung, swaying lightly in the heavy early summer breeze.  As she closed the distance between her and the Cathedral, the chipper sound of music reached her ears, her attention being drawn to Clopin and Esmeralda performing.   É toile gave a small wave before walking up the steps to the Cathedral, excited to try on her new dress.

“Quasi, I’m back,” she announced, making her way into the quiet bell tower.  The sun had set quite a bit, the bells finished ringing for the later mass.  Her voice echoed without an answer, and she moved further into the space in order to rid her arms of the extra weight.  In placing the basket down, she found Quasimodo, looking out of the slats to the street below.  “Anything good out there?”

“No, not especially.”  He pushed himself away from the wall with a shrug.

“How about in here?  Have you finished my figure yet?”   É toile asked with a sparkle in her eye.

“Not yet.  I haven’t painted her yet, but the carving is complete.”  Quasimodo informed her, moving the cloth covering it more securely over the figure.

“Will you finish it already?  I’m getting tired of waiting!”  She giggled, moving over to where she placed her new dress down.

“It takes time,  É toile.”  Quasimodo sounded serious, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth.  “I want to make sure that she is perfect.”  Quasimodo, no doubt, had an eye for art.  Each of his carvings was incredibly intricate, never failing to amaze  É toile with how something so meek and beautiful could come from such incredibly strong and large hands.  She had taken to sitting with him as he worked on his figures, even being allowed to paint some of them.  Quasimodo always complimented her work, however, his painting skills were far superior to hers.

“I’m sure she will be,”  É toile held the dress up to her front.  “I haven’t seen a figure yet that wasn’t.  Is Esmeralda still coming tonight?”

“I believe so.”  Quasimodo answered, still a bit flustered from the compliment he was paid.

“I’ll have to wear this new dress then.  I saw it and figured I earned it.”   É toile scampered up to her loft, leaving Quasimodo to set up the main loft in the manner that they were accustomed when they had visitors.  The room was transformed into a comfortable seating area,  É toile’s light footsteps bringing Quasimodo’s attention back towards her.  “Would you mind helping me with this?”

“Of course.”  The bellringer closed the distance between them,  É toile turning around and holding out the strings of her corset for him to tie.  Her dress was a drastic change from the brown dress she had worn since she had met him.  This one was a pale pink with an off the shoulder sleeve, the faded blue corset wrapping up and over her bare shoulders, the color matching the vine of flowers embroidered along the bottom hem, falling just above her ankles.  As Quasimodo pulled the strings,  É toile inhaled.

“Not so tight, Quasi.  You’re going to break me in half.”  She laughed, Quasimodo immediate let go lightly.  He tied a clumsy bow into the back of the corset,  É toile spinning around, allowing her dress to fan out.  He noticed how the color brought out her freckles which littered her pale skin around her shoulders especially, a feature that her old dress had hidden.  “What do you think?”

“Beautiful.”  Quasimodo said quietly, the tenderness in his voice causing the woman’s eyes to befall the floor.  The hunchback watched as her freckled cheeks colored, a shy smile ghosting her lips.

“T-Thank you.”   É toile continued to watch the floor, her foot shuffling slightly.

“Hello?”  A familiar voice rang out, finally pulling  É toile’s attention elsewhere.  Esmeralda and Phoebus waved curtly before ascending the stairs to the loft, Quasimodo smiling warmly.   É toile and Quasimodo hadn’t seen them in a little over a week, Phoebus being very busy helping in the choosing of the new Minister of Justice and Esmeralda… Well,  É toile wasn’t very sure as to what she was up to.  Quasimodo had mentioned that she went back to the Court of Miracles for a while to help with the rebuilding, wherever that was.  “It’s been a long time, my friends.”

“How goes the roommate situation?”  Phoebus asked dully, giving  É toile the direct impression that he honestly didn’t like her much.

“Well.”  Quasimodo answered, Phoebus nodded lightly.

“Where’s Djali?”   É toile peeked around Esmeralda’s ankles, not finding the kid jumping around, which was strange.

“No, not tonight.  Clopin is caring for him at the Court of Miracles for me.”  Esmeralda responded.

“The Court of Miracles,”  É toile repeated.  “I think I may like to see that one day.”

“Good luck,” Phoebus scoffed.  “They’re a very private people, they don’t allow just anyone in.”

“Unless you have an in with Clopin, and he adores her.”  Esmeralda elbowed Phoebus lightly in the rib cage.  Moving forward, Esmeralda presented a basket that she had been carrying, sitting down in her usual spot in the circle of seating.  “I’ve brought something special tonight.”

“Esmeralda, you really mustn't spend your money on us.”  Quasimodo passed quietly, taking his seat next to  É toile.  Esmeralda’s slender hands pulled out a loaf of bread and a block of cheese, placing the green bottles of wine that they usually drank next to the food.  Then, she reached back into the basket and pulled out a short, clear bottle, with a liquid that  É toile wasn’t sure of.

“I don’t spend all of my money, but even if I did, it would be worth it to share a meal with good friends.”  She smiled a brilliant beam, pushing the basket to both  É toile and Quasimodo.  “And a little something for you both.”   É toile extended a slender finger, lifting up the fabric that concealed the bottom of the basket.  Her face lit up instantly.

“Strawberries!  My favorite.”   É toile exclaimed in glee, thanking Esmeralda.  As the women spoke momentarily, Quasimodo continued to stare towards  É toile.  Strawberries were his favorite fruit as well.  “But… What’s in those bottles?”

“This,”  Phoebus lifted the stout bottle within his right hand, showcasing it.  “Is a very infamous brew that only the most trusted of Romani have access to.  And for those who do not know of it, must ask a certain King for it.”  Phoebus uncorked the bottle, taking a swig of it and grimacing noticeably, swallowing hard.  He handed it off to Esmeralda who also took a drink, before passing it to  É toile.  She smelled it and frowned.

“Not to worry, it tastes better than it smells.”  Esmeralda reassured her.  Finding confidence in her words,  É toile tipped the bottle back, the foul tasting liquid splashing over her tongue and burning her throat as it went down.  Feeling it hit her stomach, it warmed her instantly, causing a cough to rise in her throat.  She passed it quickly to Quasimodo who took it as if it would bite his fingers.  He took a small sip, coughing instantly, and handed it back to Phoebus.

“I see that two people in this room cannot hold their liquor.”  He said with a smirk, taking another swig of the liquid fire.  There was a lot of laughter and serious talk as Esmeralda asked  É toile about her situation with her father.  Once the night had progressed, Esmeralda introduced a drinking game which devolved the conversation into hysterical laughter more quickly than anyone could keep up.

As the bottles emptied, Esmeralda and  É toile danced around the loft, flipping their skirts and swinging around beams.  The men clapped a quick beat for them, Esmeralda flipping her legs over her head and landing gracefully with nothing but the tinkle of her golden bangles.

“Showoff.”   É toile laughed.  Her pale hand reached out to take the nearly empty bottle from Phoebus, staring at the liquid.

“Finish it.”  Phoebus challenged.

“P-Perhaps that isn’t a good idea?”  Quasimodo spoke up, mostly sobered from the drinking he had done.

“Quasi, lighten up.”   É toile waved him off with her free hand, tipping the bottle back to her lips with the other.  A couple of swallows later and the bottle was empty, and Phoebus smirked at the young woman.  After a short while of a bit more conversation, Phoebus stood up, stretching his muscles.  Esmeralda recognized that as the signal to start packing up to head home for the night, a dark blush staining her cheeks and a devious smile upon her red lips.  The quartet bid each other goodnight, the dancer and the soldier walking out clumsily towards the staircase.  Quasimodo turned to  É toile, noticing the pink in her cheeks, and took her arm lightly within his grasp.

“ É toile, it would be best if you went to sleep.”  He had grabbed her due to the way she swayed on her feet.

“I’m fine.”  The woman insisted, her breath smelling heavily of strawberries and alcohol.  The sickly sweet mixture made Quasimodo’s stomach turn slightly.  He gave her a quick tug in the direction of her loft,  É toile’s feet fastened to the floorboards under her.  “Wait, please, I need a moment.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”  Quasimodo questioned, watching as the color drained quickly from her face.   É toile tore from his grip in a moment of sudden clarity, darting towards his workbench, crumpling to the floor with a soft ‘thud.’  She gripped the sides of his wood shaving bucket, heaving the poisoned contents of her stomach into it, her arms shaking.  The confused bell ringer moved to her side, pulling her blonde curls back from her sweat coated face, allowing her to expel what she needed.  He waited until she was breathing heavily without heaving before leaving her momentarily.  He grabbed a ladle full of cool water, bringing it to her and urging her to drink.   É toile sipped at the water, swishing it around her mouth, and spit it out.

“I… I’m sorry.”  She whispered, embarrassed that she had let herself go so far.  Quasimodo said nothing, pulling a cloth down from his bench and soaking up the rest of the water.  He dabbed the cloth gently at her flushed cheeks, cooling her face against the heat.

“It’s okay.”  His voice was so soothing, even in a world where even silence seemed deafeningly loud.  “You were enjoying yourself.”

“Yes, but I should have stopped.  I’m sorry to make you take care of me.”   É toile looked down at his knees that touched the side of her thigh as he leaned over to help her feel better.

“You aren’t.”  Quasimodo said with a bit of an insistent tone.  “However, I do think it best that you sleep now.”

  
“Yes.”  Étoile nodded once, her head sending her into a dizzying spiral.  Quasimodo stood up before her, offering a hand.  The woman took it, attempting to pull herself up, but her legs gave out trying to allow her to stand.  Taking a moment, Quasimodo reached out his hands, placing them under her arms and setting her up on her feet.  She swayed to the left a bit before he sighed.

“Hold on.”  He told her, moving his stance.  Sweeping  É toile’s feet out from under her, she found his one arm situated under her legs, the other supporting her shoulders as Quasimodo began to carry her over to the stairs of her loft.  Although horribly embarrassed at her state,  É toile allowed her heavy head to fall to the green clad chest beside her, concentrating on the uneven footsteps of the man carrying her.  Quasimodo pushed aside the curtain to her room, that being the first time in which he had seen it.  He placed her gently down onto her bedding, lighting a candle quickly for her to see.   É toile tried to situate herself, dizziness overcoming her with each movement.  “Are you going to be alright?”

“I-I hope so.”  She answered, nausea already attacking her abdomen once again.  Gripping her stomach,  É toile rolled, her head missing her pillow and falling against the floor.  Quasimodo sighed once more, taking a seat next to her bedding, leaning his back against the pillar that stood in the middle of the space.  He lifted her head, placing it on the pillow again, for fear of her really hurting herself.  “Please, I’ll be okay.  You have to be up early.”

“Then you’d best fall asleep quickly and not keep me awake.”  He chuckled lightly, watching a small smile form on the woman’s lips.  Within the flickering light of the candle, Quasimodo watched as her blue eyes fluttered closed, her long lashes kissing the tops of her cheekbones.  Her hair glittered gold with each movement of the fire, illuminating her within a halo of yellow ringlets.  Quasimodo felt heat pool within his stomach at viewing her, innocence and vulnerability heavy upon her sleeping face.  He looked to the side of him, reaching over to take hold of an extra pillow and loose blanket, situating himself against the post in order to watch the girl in case of her getting sick again.  As he placed a pillow behind him, he heard a thud, the sound of a book falling to the floor.  Carefully scanning the girl’s face, he found her unaffected by the sound, slightly relieved that she hadn’t stirred from her slumber.

The hunchback leaned over again to swiftly blow out the flickering flame, the space being painted over in dark shadows.  As he leaned back on his hand, something under his large palm caught his attention.  He picked up the object, turning it over in the thin moonlight.  Within his grasp, a dried pink flower sat.  A flutter in his stomach forced him to look over to the peaceful girl next to where he sat, a fond sparkle lighting his green eyes.  He reveled in that sparkle for a moment before a chilling voice froze his soul.

‘ _ You must resist any temptation, Quasimodo.  Even if a woman is alluring beyond your wildest dreams, you must never give in.’ _

Quasimodo’s heart pounded against its cage, his breath coming shorter than usual.  That voice, colder than the stone used to construct the Cathedral, shook him to his core.  He watched outside as the moon passed through the night sky before drifting off lightly, not quite being able to shake the chill that resided within him.

 

~


	7. Protect me, Maria

The pitter-patter against the wall next to him caused Quasimodo to stir from his slumber slowly.  He found himself slumped against the pillar he had sat against mere hours before, blinking to clear the fog from his vision.  Next to his legs,  É toile slept peacefully, her breaths rising and falling with the calm of deep sleep.  Quasimodo felt a smile emerge upon viewing her face, a flutter from the previous night returning.  The small bit of euphoria was short lived as frantic footsteps alerted his ears to a visitor approaching quickly.

“Quasimodo?!”  And elder man’s voice called through the silent bell tower.  Quasimodo’s stomach dropped heavily, only just noticing how bright the space was, despite the rain clouds outside.  “Quasimodo, where are you, boy?!”  As if struck by lightning, the hunchback shot up, knocking over a few things and making quite a ruckus, before running towards the stairs to the main loft and launching himself down them.  As his feet connected with the floorboards, he turned to face the distressed Archdeacon.

“Sir!”  He responded, adrenaline running through his veins.

“Oh, Quasimodo,” the Archdeacon exhaled his name, trying to catch his breath after running up the stairs.  “When I didn’t hear the bells, I feared something had happened to you.  You are well, aren’t you?”

“S-Sir, I must apologize.”  Quasimodo allowed his head to hang.  Never before had he missed a ringing despite illness or lack of sleep.  “I… Was not feeling well last night and did not sleep well.  I must have finally drifted off early and not waken up.”

“My son, that is no fault of your own.  I am just relieved to find you well.  And what of  É toile?  I have not seen her either.”

“Asleep as well.”  He informed him.  “We must have both eaten something that didn’t quite agree with us.”

“Well, if that is all, please, return to resting.  We all missed your beautiful music this morning.  It is better to rest now than to miss more in the future.”  The old man turned on his heel and headed for the steps.  “And please give my well wishes to  É toile.”

“Of course, sir.”  Quasimodo watched as the old man retreated, a heavy breath releasing from his lips.  The guilt that filled him was overwhelming, now actually feeling sick to his stomach.  Not only did he abandon his duties as bell ringer, but he had lied to the Archdeacon about it.  Nevermind that he was taking care of  É toile... 

After a moment of clarity, he realized that he must have scared the girl half to death on his way down!  Rushing back up the stairs, he saw  É toile on her back with her hand blocking her eyes.  It was then that he could really hear the intensity of the rain outside.

“Quasi?”   É toile managed to push out from her dry mouth.  “Can you p-please bring the water bucket?”  She asked quietly.  It felt as though acid sloshed around her stomach, her mouth feeling as if it had never seen water.  The bellringer did as he was asked, filling the ladle and cupping a hand under it.   É toile uncovered her bloodshot eyes, sitting up slowly to sip at the water offered to her.  The chill of it turned her stomach, and she shook her head slightly when she had had enough.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”   É toile looked around, her eyes suddenly darting to Quasimodo.  “Oh no, what time is it?  Did you not ring the bells this morning?”

“I’m afraid not.”  He said, sitting back down next to her, finishing the water from the ladle that she had not.  “The Archdeacon believes us to have food poisoning.”

“I’m so sorry.”   É toile passed, laying herself back down.  Quasimodo merely shook his head, his left arm draped over his bent knee.

“One time missed in ten years isn’t too horrible.”  He said with a hint of a laugh.   É toile smiled, looking up at him from her pillow.  There was silence between before the woman began chuckling lightly, a hand up to her mouth.  “What’s so funny?”

“You look really silly from this angle.”   É toile explained, laughing even more.  Quasimodo’s face fell.

“O-Oh.”

“No!  Oh, no, Quasi, not like that.”   É toile tried to raise her voice and only succeeded in making her head hurt.  “I’m sorry, I mean, I would look funny from this angle too!”

“It’s alright,  É toile, really.  Besides, I look silly from every angle.”  His green eyes traveled to the slats in the wall, watching the heavy raindrops fall from the gables.  The woman bit her bottom lip, feeling badly for voicing her laughter.

“You’re… Much too hard on yourself, you know.”  This drew his attention back to her fair face.  Blue eyes sparkled despite the lack of sunlight, Quasimodo searching for something readable in her face.  He found nothing, despite trying to decipher her emotion.  After doing some searching of his own self, he found that he had nothing as well.

É toile took a moment to search her words for the right thing to say to him, but everything that she had come up with, sounded ridiculous.  She wanted to tell him how she viewed him, but they were still on the rocky line of friendship, were they not?  It seemed entirely too personal to tell him exactly how she felt at that point.

É toile found it strange.  It was true, when she had first come in contact with him, she was frightened, of course, by his appearance.  However, over the past weeks that she had spent living and interacting with Quasimodo, she began to realize that it was easier to ignore his deformities than she ever felt possible.   É toile saw him now as an entire person, not just his abnormal appearance.  The entire person who spoke so eloquently with a soft, floating voice.  Who stood before her strong and willing to help.  The person who was behind those beautifully green eyes…

But no, that was entirely too personal.  Quasimodo was still looking her in the eyes, and she decided that she must come up with something to say, however, it was him who began.

“A-Are you hungry?  I can cut up some of the fruit that Esmeralda left for us.”  The bell ringer asked.  It was a feeble attempt at conversation, but an attempt nonetheless.

“I could eat.”   É toile wished for a distraction from where her thoughts had taken her, the two of them walking down to their main living loft which was still a disaster from the night previous.  Quasimodo was back to being extremely quiet, and  É toile was feeling incredibly awkward due to the situation being her fault.  She wished she had paid attention to what came out of her mouth before it left.  “I’m sorry, again.  For last night, and well, what I said upstairs.”  She said quietly, Quasimodo turning to her and raising a brow.

“It’s all right.  Really.”  He said plainly, pulling the basket up and onto a free table, grabbing a knife.

“Okay.  I… Really do want you to know what I said is true.  That you’re too hard on yourself.”  The thoughts were bubbling up in her throat.  “You are much more than what meets the eye.”

“I…”  Quasimodo tried to come up with something to say to her but failed, the only sound between them the cutting of the knife.

“Perhaps one day, you will be able to see for yourself.”   É toile had taken hold of a few dishes, placing them upon a cleared table top a little distance away from Quasimodo’s work bench.  For a moment, the cutting ceased, and  É toile expected Quasimodo to walk to the table with the fruit.  What she didn’t expect were the arms that surrounded her middle, squeezing lightly.  It was so jarring,  É toile almost jumped, feeling the arms around her let go suddenly.

“I-I’m sorry.  I wasn’t… I didn’t mean…”  The bell ringer was flustered and stuttering over his words, his hands twisting nervously.   É toile had turned around to face him, her mouth slightly open in disbelief.  Her middle felt warm, her cheeks on fire.  A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“No, don’t be sorry.”  She said trying to gain his eye contact back.  “Please, don’t ever be sorry for your feelings, no more of that.”  Quasimodo’s eyes immediately shot back to her face.  This woman was so strange, very much emotional, sometimes clueless, but at the same time, she was so incredibly wise beyond her years.  Had he known that people like her existed, he would have considered leaving his tower even sooner than he had.  The realization made his stomach flip and he nodded slowly.

“I’ll get the fruit.”  He said, quickly turning on his heel.  Picking up the board that he used to cut the fruit, Quasimodo brought it over to the table where  É toile was putting some water into both of their cups.  The board was placed in the middle of the table, and once settled, the two began to eat.  “A-Are you feeling okay?”

“I suppose I’ll live.  But I wouldn’t mind resting a bit more today.”   É toile mentioned, popping a small piece of strawberry past her lips.  “Although, I would also really like to go out in the rain.”

“Oh?”  The question in the hunchback’s voice rang clear and  É toile elaborated.

“I’ve always enjoyed being out in the rain when the weather is warmer.”  She told him, leaving out the issue that she didn’t feel very clean after last night’s festivities, either.

“We… Could go out after we eat.”

“Really?”   É toile’s blue eyes sparkled lightly, Quasimodo nodding in response.  A slender finger came up to her cheek in thought, the appendage pointing towards him.  “Only one condition.  You must go out without your cloak on.”

“I-I can’t do that.”

“Please, Quasi?  I would like it if you tried to start seeing yourself in a better light.  And I’ll be right with you the whole time; I hope you know by now that you aren’t ugly to me.”   É toile was alarmed by Quasimodo’s sudden fit of coughing as he dropped the piece of fruit he was chewing.  After a few moments, he was able to breathe again, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Alright.”  He agreed quietly, looking to the rain outside.  Compliments were something he was anything but accustomed to, but judging from  É toile’s pleased reaction from his embarrassment, he’d better get used to them.

 

~

 

The streets were empty, the usual loud carriage wheels replaced by the softly beating raindrops against the cobblestones.   É toile had changed into her old brown dress and was lacking shoes as she splashed her way, barefoot, through puddles down the stone steps.  Her pounding head had felt much better after eating, and the rain was only further massaging away the hangover that sat behind her eyes.

Quasimodo, on the other hand, had taken shelter in the doorway, attempting to stay dry under the small lip.  He did not like rain.  Rain reminded him of bad times, the previous Festival of Fools, and he cared not to remember that day.  Days like that reminded Quasimodo why he wished to remain alone for the rest of his days.

É toile held out her slender hand towards the timid bell ringer, smiling at him.  Quasimodo hesitated slightly, but found himself walking down towards her, his large hand taking hers gently.  His clothing was stained with an uncomfortable wetness that he tried to ignore as the puddle he currently stood in soaked his cloth shoes through.

“Listen.”  She urged him, releasing his hand and closing her eyes.  Quasimodo had heard the rain more times than he could count, not sure what  É toile was truly getting at, but closed his eyes to humor her nonetheless.  Suddenly, he could hear each individual drop as it fell upon his hair, face, and arms.  He took a deep breath, smelling the wet stones beneath his feet, before opening his eyes to the smiling woman in front of him.  “Did you hear it?”

“I… believe I did.”  He said, not really sure what she meant by “it.”

“My Father always took me out when it rained.  My Mother would always yell at him since we would come back soaking and stain the flooring.  But Father never stopped doing it, he would carry me on his shoulders all throughout the empty town, always telling me how I kept the sun shining even when it rained.”   É toile’s blue eyes connected with Quasimodo’s shuffling feet, her smile dropping to a sad grin.

“That sounds nice.”  Quasimodo said to her quietly.

“It was.”   É toile nodded, looking down the empty street in front of her.  “Shall we walk, then?”

“Um…”  He trailed off, looking down the street then back to her.

“It’s nicer than it sounds, I promise.”  She urged, taking a few steps forward.  The hunchback took a few steps with her, giving in.   É toile took off with Quasimodo in tow, the two talking quietly between themselves.  With each step, the bell ringer’s wet clothes clung to every bump and curve of his deformed body, reminding him to tug at the dark green fabric around him.   É toile shook her head slightly, Quasimodo catching the action and allowing his arms to fall back to his sides, listening to whatever tale  É toile was spinning.

As they had circled back to the Cathedral, the rain picked up even harder, drenching the two with a cold wind.

“At least we’re almost home.”  The woman smiled to the shorter man next to her.  To keep warm,  É toile began to make grander movements, twirling her sopping wet skirt to slap around her calves, throwing more water droplets flying towards Quasimodo.  He squinted with the water coming at him, watching her dance around in front of him, now noticing that her blonde hair was much darker and longer now.  Her dress clung to her as his own clothing did to him, showing each curve of her body.  His cheeks heated, and he looked away quickly.

Unaware of the attention she had grabbed from Quasimodo,  É toile danced her way over to him, reaching down and lacing her fingers within his own, jerking his arms towards her.  He let out a noise of surprise as he followed her lead, allowing himself to be pulled around the square.  Red hair hid his eyes, a smile emerging on his face as  É toile giggled across from him.  Before long, he felt laughter falling from his own lips, twirling  É toile around him with his right arm.  They stopped momentarily, a chill tickling  É toile’s spine, and Quasimodo looked at her.

“We should… Go get warm.”  He suggested.   É toile nodded quickly, taking her eyes off of him and heading to the Cathedral, their hands still entwined.

 

~

It was cold within the Cathedral, the great stone walls catching and trapping the chill  from the storm outside and stagnating it.  Étoile's skin burst out in in goosebumps, a chill tickling her back and neck as the oddly paired duo walked back to the south stairs to climb back to their home.  Étoile's hand was still firmly connected to Quasimodo's, afraid that he may have wanted to let go at some point, but not wanting to be the first to break the contact between them; similar thoughts crossed his mind as well.  He could hear the squish of his soaked shoes as he took steps upwards, both of them dripping an impossible amount of water onto the floor, revealing the dark colors of the cement.  As they reached the shelter of the bell tower, the wooden rafters did little to protect them from the cold whipping wind.

“I might have to stay wrapped in a blanket on top of dry clothes.”  Étoile laughed lightly, her free arm wrapping around her front.  The two parted ways, their hands finally detangling, as they climbed the stairs to their respective lofts.  Quasimodo shut the curtain behind him, taking a moment to sit and think for a moment.  Unfortunately for him, the gargoyles always loved to give their two cents whenever he had these moments of thought.

‘ _ Quasi, get changed and get back out there to her! _ ’

‘ _ Judging by how pink her cheeks were, she was glad to hold your hand. _ ’

“W-What?  No.  Her cheeks are just cold.”  He retorted, shifting himself to relieve his body of his heavy wet tunic.  It plopped to the floor with a loud slap, the water dripping from his hair cold against his bare shoulders and chest.

‘ _ You’re making excuses, boy. _ ’  One of the gargoyles snapped at him.  Quasimodo sighed, lifting himself back up to remove his shoes and hose.  Maybe he was.  However, the last time the gargoyles had spoken to him about a woman, he ended up having his heart broken.  He didn’t want to subject himself to that again.  The protests of the gargoyles fell upon deaf ears.

Quasimodo had to admit, he loved spending time with Étoile.  As they spent more and more time together, it became increasingly difficult for him to refrain from smiling if she was, and even harder to say no to her requests.

‘This is different than Esmeralda.’ The bell ringer reasoned with himself, toeing the pile of sopping wet clothing aside.  ‘There’s actually something there this time…  Isn’t there?’  As his own mind betrayed him, it began to wander as well.

Quasimodo looked down upon his body, examining every lump and curve he could see.  His chest was broad and muscular, his abdomen just sculpted as the rest of him.  His legs were incredibly powerful, his arms large with the strength they possessed.  Perhaps more heartbreaking to him than the fact that everything above his shoulders was considered horrific was that, if his shoulders and face were normal, he could actually be considered an attractive person.  But, alas, his spine was crooked, pushed under his shoulder blade and forced the bone outward, causing his jagged appearance.  While his eyes sparkled beautifully, they were obstructed by his bright red hair and swollen brow.  His smile, while endearing, would never be considered handsome due to his awkwardly large front teeth…

There was so much wrong with him, how could a girl like Étoile ever feel something for someone like him?  Hadn’t he learned his lesson when giving his heart to Esmeralda?

Slowly, the hunchback pulled a dry pair of hose onto his legs and a tunic over his head, using another piece of dry rope to bind it around his slender middle.  Quasimodo felt a lump in his throat as he looked down at himself now, barely hidden within the confines of his clothing.  Why on God’s green Earth he had to be damned with this appearance, he would never know.  But rather than wish for that to change, he found himself wishing only for happiness.

Étoile shut the curtain to the loft, humming lightly to herself.  Stripping herself of the cold material, she stepped out of it, crossing her room for her pink dress which felt warm and inviting within her grasp.  Going out in the rain had been huge for Quasimodo, especially without his cloak, and Étoile was so happy that she got to share that moment with him.  It seemed as though she was content to spend many moments with him, the thought deepening her blush upon her freckled cheeks.

Before she knew it, a deep soft spot had formed for the bell ringer within her heart.  Each time he would talk to her, she found herself smiling and in turn, him as well.  She could hear him mumbling to himself across the way, something he did quite often, and couldn’t help but feel fondness tickle her insides.  She had felt things similar to this before, however, no where near to this magnitude.  The feeling left Étoile… Confused.  She wasn’t sure what to call it.

Looking at her dressed balled up within her hands, the sound of her mother’s voice rang through her head.

‘ _ Honestly, Étoile, this is why everything you wear always looks messy.  Fold your clothes, girl.’ _

The memory brought a sad smile to her face, lowering her dress to step into it.  While she moved to, an object under her bare foot caused her attention to fall down, the pressed pink flower sitting upon the faded floor boards.  It was the flower that Quasimodo had given to her upon their first outing, something that she found herself completely unable to get rid of.  Étoile had been using it as a bookmark, but it must have fallen out at some point.  Carefully moving it to the side, her heart thumped painfully.

A noise over her shoulder caused her blue eyes to shift in its direction, nearly jumping out of her skin.  Her dress was half pulled up and through the slightly open curtain, she could see Quasimodo approaching with a dry towel within his hand.  Étoile had frozen in horror, Quasimodo’s eyes not lifting off of his hand yet.

“Étoile, I-I brought this for you in case you wanted to dry your hair-”  As he reached her makeshift doorway, his eyes finally lifted, seeing Étoile scrambling to put her dress on to shield her naked form.  He turned a deep red, not far off from his hair, and backed away.  “I-I-I-... Oh no, I’m sorry, I…”

“No, no, it’s okay.”  Étoile defended, shaking a bit from the adrenaline.  “T-Thank you.”  She moved gently towards him, taking the towel from his light grasp.  Silently moving back a bit, she opened the curtain for him.  “Will you please tie the back for me again?”

Quasimodo’s mouth had run dry, looking to the woman in front of him who nervously dried her locks.  He simply nodded, Étoile turning her back to him and continuing her motions with her hair.

Étoile felt Quasimodo’s thick fingers gathering the string at the back of her dress, silently hoping that he hadn’t seen too much of her.  While she knew she had nothing to complain about compared to him, she was still very uncomfortable with her body.  The freckles that littered her skin were so visible, it looked as though she were speckled with dark red paint, something she couldn’t stand.  Étoile also hated her shape, the swell of her hips much larger than her disproportionately small waist.  She wouldn’t mind it so much if all of the weight she carried wasn’t gathered around her middle, she always wore a corset for that specific reason.  And compared to other girls her age, her breasts were not very impressive, at least, she thought so…

Quasimodo had to steady his breathing, pulling the strings taught one by one.  As hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop looking at the delicate vertebrae under her freckled skin.  And harder yet, was getting the image of her to completely leave his frazzled mind.  Quasimodo had never seen anyone else nude, much less a woman.  Her form fascinated him, each curve and mark a delicate brush stroke of what God could create, if He were merciful.  Quasimodo was sure that he had never seen such an intimidatingly beautiful form before that very moment, and suddenly, a booming voice filled his head.

‘ _ A boy your age will be pushed to many temptations due to the heathen nature of these shrews.  Lust is a powerful thing, Quasimodo.  Let it not enter your thoughts, and sin will leave you be.  Resist. _ ’

He tightened the bow on the dress, eliciting a small inhale from Étoile as she turned around.

“Quasi, listen, I-”

“I-I must tend the bells before the mass tonight.  I am sorry.”  The hunchback bade, quickly darting out of the room.  Étoile stood there with words on her lips and no one to say them too.

 

~


	8. I Am Your Only Friend

Étoile was left to worry as to whether or not she had done something wrong to make Quasimodo angry. The bell ringer had been actively avoiding her, not coming down from his loft since ringing the evening mass. Étoile had even called up to him asking if he wanted to eat and had gained no response. Quasimodo was staring at the bells for as long as he could without blinking, trying to sort through his thoughts. Once again, the gargoyles poked and prodded at him, forcing him to turn his back to them. He hugged his shoulders to himself and sighed. This was so confusing.

‘ _Just be honest with yourself Quasi_.’

“There is nothing to be honest about.” He snapped without looking at the statues. “Even if there was… How can this time be any different?” The bell ringer rolled back onto his back, grinding the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, a groan heavy on his lips. Within the blackness that he saw, Étoile’s pale form entered his mind, he could see her dancing in the rain, her curls bouncing… The soft curve of her spine as he tied her dress…

Frollo’s voice came to him once again with startling clarity, resonating within his chest and gripping his heart within its icy tones. Quasimodo, while in the moment, felt as though he were glimpsing upon an angel, and now, he wished that he had never happened upon Étoile in that state. She was so beautiful, what right did he have to gaze upon her in that way?

His thick fingers brushed up into his locks, gripping them tightly at the roots. The aching that his heart held for the woman was overpowering, but the vice grip that his former master had was just as tight. Frollo had been very wrong about so many things… Was this just another one of the lies he’d been fed? What was the true word of God and what was the twisted manipulations of the wayward judge? For the first time, Quasimodo had no idea where his faith should lay, and for a moment, the only place he wanted it to lay was with Étoile.

~

It was quiet within the bell tower, all candle light having been extinguished for the night as a figure moved clumsily through the shadows. The figure’s shins came in contact with the wooden stairs, carefully making his way up them, so as to not fall. Phoebus had not heard the bells in the morning, and being within the stone walls of the Palace of Justice in the evening, lost their music within the barrier. As he found his way to the top of the stairs, he could see the faint outline of Quasimodo’s work bench in the dark and allowed his eyes to scan the rest of the floor. He needed to remember with staircase led to his friend’s loft, that way, he could check up on him and make sure that Étoile hadn’t finally snapped on him and hurt him…

“What are you doing here?” The whisper came as such a shock to the Captain that he covered his mouth to stop a rather unflattering noise from falling out of his lips.

“So, you’re alright.” Phoebus managed to say while Quasimodo climbed down to him. “I didn’t hear the bells this morning and was afraid something may have happened last night after we left.”

“O-Oh, no. I just overslept.” Even within the grips of the night, Quasimodo could see Phoebus’ eyebrow raise. “I was up taking care of Étoile. She got sick so I put her to bed and then I fell asleep in her room and-”

“Oh?” Phoebus brought up his thumb and index finger to cradle his bearded chin.

“N-No!” His voice was anything but a whisper, quickly bringing his volume back down. “Nothing like that, o-oh…” Thoroughly embarrassed, Quasimodo’s hands found their way to his face.

“It’s okay, Quasi, I’m just yanking your chain.” Phoebus smiled at the other man’s reactions, clearing his throat to move on. “I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay and Étoile didn’t fly off the deep end.”

“Fly off the… What are you talking about?”

“She hasn’t told you yet?”

“Told me what?” Quasimodo’s voice had lost its whisper and he was now gaining volume as his heart beat quickened.

“About her father!” Phoebus didn’t understand how Quasimodo was still left in the dark on the matter. Étoile had been mad as hell the day that she left for Notre Dame the first time, why wouldn’t she have let him have it by then? Sure, Phoebus had held his tongue when he came to discover that she was hanging around the bell ringer, but that was only because Esmeralda had mentioned how happy he seemed whenever he spoke about the girl. Phoebus, still suspicious, wasn’t buying what he thought was an act put on by Étoile. Because of that, he and Esmeralda had compromised into visiting the two often, Esmeralda always asserting that she was right with her own thinking.

“Her father is missing.” Quasimodo asserted.

“Oh, is that what she told you?”

“Yes, because that’s what is happening.” The defensiveness in his voice worried Phoebus further.

“Quasi, she isn’t here because her father is missing.” Phoebus didn’t want to have to hurt his friend, but this was something he needed to know for his own good. “Étoile came here for answers. Her father, he was a soldier, and he-”

“W-Who’s down there?” A voice called out, heavy with sleep.

“Why haven’t you told him yet?” Phoebus called up to the shadowy form.

“I… What’re you talking about? I did!” Étoile’s pulse doubled in realizing who the voice was attached to. “I’m looking for my Father, Phoebus. You know that as well as I.” She silently prayed that Phoebus would take the hint and say nothing more to Quasimodo. With the blood on his hands, she couldn’t bear to add more. Her father was dead and nothing in the world would change that, especially not dragging down Quasimodo with him. Not when Quasimodo had done so much to help her and saved her life. Not when she felt this utter desperation to be at his side when she-

“You’re looking?” Phoebus repeated, anger in his voice evident. Étoile suddenly felt inexplicably angry at the prying Captain and stomped down the stairs.

“May I speak to you please? Just us?” She heard Quasimodo shift uncomfortably next to her before hearing the retreating of his uneven footsteps, waiting until she could no longer hear anything. “Phoebus, please, I can’t hurt him.”

“What do you mean, you can’t hurt him? What are you trying to prove by staying here, then?”

“What do you think is going to happen when I tell him? You think he’s going to just saying ‘oh, look at that, I killed your father,’ then go on living like nothing happened? He doesn’t need to know the name of a man that he killed, Phoebus.” The Captain was silenced for a moment at her words.

“Why are you still here?” His voice was stern, although, soft.

“I…” Étoile swallowed thickly. “I don’t want to hurt him.” Her head hung low, curls hiding her pink face. She heard Phoebus sigh heavily.

“You care for him.” It was a statement, and one Étoile found herself unable to combat. “You know you’ll have to tell him eventually, about your father, I mean.”

“I don’t feel like I can. I’ve barely gotten him to talk to me about that day, and whenever I get even the smallest bit out of him, he freezes. He starts going on about Frollo and I can’t stand to see him like that. I hear him talking in his sleep, he still feels as though Frollo is furious with him for letting him die the way he did. Quasimodo has repented and has been punished enough for what happened, he doesn’t need me to add to that.” Étoile felt her fists unclench, tucking her curls back behind her ears. “Please, Phoebus, don’t tell him.”

“I-”

“Please, Phoebus.” She threw her hands to his chest, gripping his shirt. “Please.”

“Alright, fine, I won’t. But Étoile, you can’t keep this going. You’re only hurting him more.” The Captain closed his hands around the woman’s wrists, gently placing them back to her sides. He turned on his heel and looked up.

“Good night, Quasi.” He bade, leaving the bell tower without another word. Étoile stood in place, unable to move for a moment, before realizing that Quasimodo had not answered Phoebus. Tired of his silence, she turned to the stairs that led to his loft, climbing them carefully. As she crested the last stair, she noticed a single candle’s flame illuminating the space.

“Quasi…?” She called, waiting for an answer. The answer didn’t come, and took the initiative to walk into his space on her own. “Have I done something to make you angry with me?”

“No, of course not.” Quasimodo sounded defeated and still refused to look at her. “But… What was Phoebus talking about?”

“I just asked him to help look for my Father.” She lied, her stomach twisting as she recalled Phoebus’ words.

“Oh. Good night, then.” He said simply, turning onto his good shoulder and away from Étoile.

“Come on, you’re not going to talk to me?” She asked, sitting on his bedding and leaning back next to him.

“I cannot miss mass again tomorrow morning. I must sleep.” His tone was a bit irate to Étoile, when in reality, he was just flustered that a woman was in his bed.

“I promise I’ll let you sleep if you just talk to me for a moment.” She lifted the hand that Esmeralda had read, looking at the lines. “If something was bothering you, you would tell me, wouldn’t you? Do you feel as though you can trust me?” Quasimodo said nothing for a long time before he sat up, turning to look at her. Within the flickering candle light, he could see hurt flash through her eyes, if only for a moment.

“I don’t know.” He answered, simply, seeing the drastic change in her expression. “It isn’t anything you’ve done, Étoile. My entire life, I’ve placed my trust in the wrong people, they have all broken mine. I need more time.” As the words left his mouth, Étoile’s eyes had dropped and she was now sitting up, her blue eyes blinking rapidly.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” She said quietly and Quasimodo’s stomach felt as though it had dropped twenty feet.

“And I don’t want to be hurt, either.” He said rather selfishly, harshness coming across more than he meant.

“Quasimodo,” Étoile reached for his large hands and pulled them into her lap. She never referred to him by his full name, and it alarmed him. “You are perhaps the kindest man I’ve ever met. You saved a complete stranger and took her in when you had absolutely no reason to. You are deserving of happiness, perhaps, more than anyone on this Earth. Please believe when I say I care for you deeply.” In hearing her words, Quasimodo didn’t believe what she was saying. He didn’t want to misread what he thought she was trying to say, but oh, did he wish it were true. “I hope that means something to you.” His hands twitched, begging to grab her shoulders and pull her to him, to hold her until he had to move for the mass… But those icy words entered his mind, freezing any hope.

‘ _Let it not enter enter your thoughts, and sin will leave you be. Resist._ ’

“Quasi?”

‘ _Resist_.’

“Quasimodo?”

‘ ** _Quasimodo_**.’

The bell ringer pulled his hands back, his fingers once again brushing through his hair in a foolish attempt to silence the voices within his pounding head. Étoile looked from her empty hands, back to him. She looked scared for a moment, not sure what she could do to soothe the ache that seemed to fill Quasimodo.

“Please,” his voice was weak, distant. “Please just go for tonight.” He hid behind his hands and hair, not watching as Étoile stood up. She was grateful for the lack of eye contact due to the tears that welled up within her eyes. He could hear the rustle of her nightgown as she rushed from the room and down the stairs, the frantic pitter-patter of her bare feet against the wood. Perhaps, most painful of all, was the choked sob that resonated from the other side of the tower. Quasimodo curled into himself as the gargoyles spoke their protests rather loudly, despite the man having had enough voices telling him what to do. The hunchback merely blew the candle out and gave into sleep.


	9. The King Himself Doesn't Have a View Like This

The next day passed with barely any sign of life coming from Étoile’s loft.  The bells had rung above her, shaking her body that lay in her bedding.  She had heard the Archdeacon come into the belltower and talking to Quasimodo, her name coming up in conversation, but the subject of the words became lost in their soft voices.  Soon, footsteps retreated out of the tower, Étoile assuming that the Archdeacon had given up and returned to the Sanctuary.  It was the second day in a row that she hadn’t worked.

Below her, she could hear Quasimodo shuffling around, and each sigh that fell from his lips caused her to pull her covers up over her face.  He was trying to keep busy, doing chores, special polishing the bells… But it only served to make the bell ringer’s mood more grey like the rainy sky outside.  The gargoyles had harassed him quite a bit in the morning hours, insisting that he go talk to the girl in the loft above, but he ignored them.  If she wanted to talk to him, he was positive that she would make the first move to do so.

Finally, he gave up trying to clean and plopped down at this workbench, grabbing a few uncarved blocks of wood within his grasp, setting to work.  As he carved each figure, his eyes kept darting to the one that sat just out of his view under a cloth.  Étoile’s figure still needed to be painted.

‘ _ Why can’t I see it so far? _ ’  Her voice was soft in his memory, seeing her blonde curls bouncing around her smiling face as she laughed.  The soft twinkling laugh tore through his mind, his hand movements becoming more purposeful and heavy.  ‘ _ Quasimodo? _ ’  He hissed as the knife dropped from his hand, ruby blood bubbling up from the cut it had inflicted upon his finger.  Placing the finger in his mouth, Quasimodo grimaced at both the pain and the metallic taste, standing up to grab a clean rag.  As he reached, the backs of his calves knocked his bench over, creating quite a ruckus he didn’t mean, the shifting of bed sheets from above stealing his attention momentarily.  He managed to wrap his finger loosely, blood seeping through the thin material, and his heart pounding.  Étoile was driving him mad.

Meanwhile, blue eyes flew open to the loud noise below, her heart leaping into her throat.  Étoile sat up and nearly shrieked in surprise, seeing Quasimodo entering her room with no warning.  She eyed him cautiously, seeing him sit at the end of her bedding without any warning.

“What’s wrong…?” Étoile’s voice fell a bit more weakly than she intended, Quasimodo looking up to her as if he was going to begin to say something.  However, his lips betrayed him, locking tightly around the words he desperately wanted to speak.  Étoile wanted to say something to him to try to get him started, but resisted, looking at the crude bandage on his left hand.  She waited.

Silence hung heavy between them both, the rain outside the only thing keeping Étoile’s ears from ringing with the painful silence.  Heavy sighs came from the bell ringer’s mouth as he stayed slumped against the floor, Étoile’s eyes never once leaving his face.  After what seemed like an eternity, he lifted his heavy head, his eyes full of something the woman couldn’t be completely sure of.

“I… I apologize.  I’m… Not entirely sure what to do.”  He said slowly.  Étoile’s eyebrow raised lightly, waiting for something more to come from him, but was disappointed.  Quasimodo sat trying to regain control of his thoughts, the only things coming to mind making him feel even more poorly about himself.  After the siege of Notre Dame, he promised himself that he would never lose himself to someone who showed him kindness again.  He especially did not want to throw his emotions around to another woman as he had Esmeralda, lest he be hurt once again.  It was frustrating that the next woman who entered his life, after such a short while, caused him to do the same…  He felt completely out of control as he had his entire life.

Perhaps that’s just how he was destined to live his life?  Under the control of another, after all, he wasn’t sure that he even knew how to take hold of his own life and emotions.  All of his life, he lived through someone else’s emotions and teachings, did he even have his own morals?  Was he merely a puppet for which people projected their own feelings upon?  His head hung even lower; why him?  Why would anyone want their emotions reflected on a piece of such twisted flesh and bone?

The sound of moving blankets brought his attention back to the room rather than the mess going on in his head, Quasimodo staying within his crumpled position.  Slender fingers found their way under his chin, pulling his gaze up ever so gently.

“Quasi, I’m not entirely sure as to what’s going on.  I wish you would tell me.”  Étoile passed with concern written over her pale features.  Quasimodo sighed deeply and pulled out of her grip.

“I don’t know if I can tell you.”  At his words, Étoile shrunk back, a similar sting finding its way to her stomach that she had felt the night before.  Through that sting, anger began to form.

“Well then why bother to come up here in the first place?  If you inexplicably find a way for you to trust me on the floor, please let me know.”  Étoile crossed her arms over her chest, looking out the window slat for somewhere else to have focus.  Quasimodo heard the anger in her tone and recoiled into himself slightly, recognizing the tone.  At this point, if Frollo had been there, he would have either stormed out or stuck the hunchback, perhaps even both.

‘Frollo is not here.’  Quasimodo’s mind reminded him within a moment of clarity.  He didn’t understand.  If he could comprehend that his former master was no longer there, what on earth was he afraid of?  Étoile?

Étoile never once followed up a compliment with “even monsters can find a purpose.”  Étoile never struck him or made him feel as though he didn’t belong with normal men.  Étoile was kind, and she was patient, and she was beautiful.  ‘But she’s a woman.’

Quasimodo’s entire life had been filled with the notion that women were evil temptresses that existed only to bring men down to damnation in the firey pits of hell…  He preached this to Quasimodo for nearly 20 years, ultimately falling to it, despite his preachings.  Frollo, such a strong willed and holy man still fell to the temptations of a woman.  That being said, who was he, Quasimodo?  He was a weak minded man himself, much less strong than Frollo had been.  He would no doubt fall to the sins that he heard within the streets at night, men and women within the throes of passion, sneaking between dark alleyways in order to perform what he was continually told was a sin.  That sin… Was that what Esmeralda was to Frollo?  The thought turned his stomach.

Esmeralda, the pure and heavenly angel who saved Quasimodo was the object of his former master’s horrible lust, so much so, that the man had burned down half the City in attempts to have her.  If Quasimodo were to allow Étoile a piece of his heart, surely he too would befall the madness Frollo had succumbed to.  That terrified him.  But, surely, that couldn’t be the intention of Étoile.  Suddenly, he wasn’t sure.

“Why… W-Why are you here?”  Quasimodo asked weakly, worn down by his mind.  Étoile’s eyes pulled back towards him, her mouth slightly agape with even more confusion.

“I… Came here seeking answers.”  Étoile gripped her arm with her hand and squeezed.  “And I believe I told you why last night.  So many people have shown me kindness, and yet, your kindness is more powerful than any of theirs’.  It is pure, it is bright.  You are an incredible person, Quasimodo.”

Pure.   _ Incredible _ .  Him?  Those words had never been used to describe him.  He was a monster, a manifestation of God’s judgement on human souls.

“What happened to your finger?”

“Oh, I cut it.”  Quasimodo looked down to his hand, the sound of moving fabric bringing his attention upwards again.

“That’s not how you wrap it,” Étoile scolded him slightly, unwrapping the cloth from his finger.  It began bleeding within her tiny hand as she used her teeth to tear off a clean section of the cloth he had used.  Wrapping it and knotting it continually, she pulled back once satisfied, Quasimodo’s finger throbbing momentarily and then going back to normal.

“T-Thank you.”  He trailed off, pulling his hand back to himself.  Étoile merely nodded, sitting back in her bedding.  There was a twitch in his body, something telling him that he should embrace her for being just as kind to him as he was to her.  However, as always, he was unable to get his body to cooperate.  Fists balled lightly at his sides, Étoile observing his body language carefully as she kicked her blankets aside.  Sitting on her knees, she tucked her nightgown under her legs, smoothing it out.  Gingerly, her arms lifted as she leaned forward, her cheek coming in contact with his unafflicted shoulder as her arms closed around him.  At first, the bell ringer tensed, weary of the hands on his back.  She could feel his erratic pulse as his arms lifted to encircle her as well, his hands struggling with finding a comfortable home.  Finally, he settled the large appendages on her hips, carefully, as if he were afraid to hurt her.  Once the two settled in a position that felt comfortable, Quasimodo felt the thin arms around him tighten.

Étoile’s head pulled back a bit, a lock of red hair pushed back from his ear with her nose.

“If you need time to trust me, it’s alright, I’ll wait.  I can’t promise that it’ll be easy for me to just sit back,” she laughed a bit, the air hitting Quasimodo’s ear causing him to shudder.  “But I’m willing to try, if you are.”  The words felt like a swift punch to the gut, robbing him of valuable breath.  Étoile settled back against his shoulder, and Quasimodo buried his nose within her hair.  With the breaths he was able to take, he could smell the gentle wafts of strawberries and rain, a smell that caused a great aching within his chest.

 

~

 

As the days turned to weeks, the feeling of unease that had filled the bell tower had finally subsided, Quasimodo and Étoile going back to the way everything had been previously.  At least, that’s what they told themselves.  It was very obviously much different now, but Étoile kept her mind off things by working and going to the market often, buying enough strawberries to last them both a few days at a time.  They never went bad.

Quasimodo had Esmeralda in the bell tower one afternoon while Étoile was gone, happy to be able to talk to her on his own.  Esmeralda was his closest friend, and he felt comfortable talking to her as long as they were alone.  If Phoebus or Étoile joined them, he was much more drawn into himself.  Esmeralda never seemed to mind, whatever he needed at the moment, she would supply him with.

That being said, Esmeralda knew when something was bothering her friend and also knew that he would not bring it up until he was ready.  While she waited for him to be ready, she scanned over the model of the City, cocking a brow at the lack of a certain blonde-haired woman.  A tanned hand reached over to Djali, who was looking at a few figures with hunger in his eyes, stopping him gently with a shake of the head.  Absentmindedly, the Romani woman stroked the goat’s head, until a sharp intake of breath signified Quasimodo’s willingness to begin speaking.

“I’ve been feeling strangely.”

“Oh?  Have you been sick?”  Esmeralda gave him a quick once-over, no visible ailments striking her.

“No, it’s just…  I don’t feel right.  My thoughts are everywhere and in one place all at once.  I’m not sure what to do or where to turn to or what is right anymore and I just-”

“Quasi. Quasi, you have to slow down.”  Esmeralda said with a levelheaded tone.  The hunchback was reaching a point of hysterics as words poured from his mouth.  “What do you mean everywhere and one place all at once?”

“I-I…”  He stuttered.

“Let’s start with the one place, first.”  As her emerald eyes scanned him, he looked as though he was dreading something.

“It’s…  _ Her _ .”  Quasimodo sighed, burying his head within his large hands.

“Her?”  Esmeralda cocked her head to the side, understanding suddenly hitting her.  “Étoile, you mean?”  Quasimodo didn’t respond.

“I have so many things going through my mind, she makes me feel so… I don’t know, Esmeralda.  What do I do?”

“Is it a bad feeling?”

“No!  No… I mean, it depends.  When I think about it too much, it hurts terribly but…”  He was speaking in riddles and Esmeralda leaned forward, her raven locks falling over her tanned shoulders.

“I’m sorry, my friend, I don’t understand.”

“Please, Esmeralda, keep this between us?”  He unburied his head to look her in the eyes, the dancer nodding.  “A while ago, I walked in on her, well, changing.  And ever since then, I can’t stop thinking about her… Like that.  But I know it’s wrong, and I don’t want this to turn into something sinful.  I… Care about her.”  It was his first time vocalising his feelings, the words falling out of their own accord.

“Well, of course you do, that’s been obvious.”  Esmeralda sat back slightly, an airy laugh on her red lips.  “And you should not be afraid of anything you’re feeling.  It is not a sin to have these feelings, it is a part of life and nature.”

“But, Frollo always told me-”

“Frollo was wrong, Quasi.  You know that.”  Frollo's name held such contempt for the woman.  “And he’s no longer here.”

“I… Know.”

“If you have feelings for Étoile, you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, my friend.”  She patted his arm.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I know.  But you’re smart.  It will come to you with time.  Just do not rush yourself.”  Esmeralda smiled warmly at him.

“La Esmeralda~!”  A flamboyant voice called from the square, pulling her attention outward.

“Clopin is calling for me, I must go.  Would you like for me to come back tonight?”

“No, I think I’ve bothered you enough.  I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, and you’re not a bother.  I always enjoy spending time with you.  I’ll see you soon.”  Esmeralda leaned over to leave a kiss on the top of his head before heading towards the stairs.  Quasimodo watched her go with a heavy heart, not really feeling much better than he had in the passing weeks.  Turning back towards his workstation, he faintly heard music starting back up in the street.  He reached towards the unfinished figure of Étoile, turning it over in his hand.  He opened up his paint and went to work.

~

Étoile returned home later that evening after a day of walking around the market.  There had been a vendor selling paints and she had picked up a jar of Quasimodo’s most used color, red.  She climbed the wooden stairs, seeing his back to her as she approached.  He was obviously concentrating on whatever he was working on and she cleared her throat in an attempt to alert him to her presence without startling him.

“I’m back.”  She announced.  “How was your day?”

“Fine,” he stated plainly.

“Do anything fun?”

“Polished the bells and saw Esmeralda for a while.”  He held the figure up to the setting sun.  Étoile walked over to peek at what he was working on as his paint brush licked away at the figure, flowers being painted upon a pink base.  She gasped lightly, excitement coursing through her as Quasimodo placed the figure on top of the Cathedral next to his own.

“It’s beautiful!”  Due to the tackiness of the paint, she didn’t dare touch it, but she did lean over to get a closer look.  The material that Quasimodo had used to craft her hair was perfect, golden with just the smallest hint of glitter.  The body was extremely detailed, each of her awkward curves placed just right.  Little freckles littered the body as well, the more prominent ones painted in darker red.  “I almost forgot!”  Étoile walked over to where she had dropped the food basket, digging through it, and walking back over with the jar in hand.  She presented it to him, a wide smile playing at her pink lips.  “I noticed the other day that you could use more red paint.”   


“Thank you…”  He smiled warmly at her before realizing what time it was.  “I have to ring for the mass shortly, if you’d like to leave.”

“No, it’s alright.  I like to listen to your music.”  She answered simply, bringing the food she bought over to the storage counter.  For a moment, Quasimodo stayed in place, watching as Étoile moved around the space.  Esmeralda’s words were running through his mind as he observed the way her dress swished around her ankles as she cut the bread under her hands.  He tried to pull his eyes back as quickly as possible, climbing up a few stairs before grabbing onto the rafters and swinging the rest of the way up to the bells.  As he looked into the golden bells, Étoile’s form was shown to him, dancing around while she prepared food for dinner.  He grabbed one of the ropes, beginning the first pitches of the song, Étoile turning to watch Quasimodo as he threw himself between beams to ring the next bell.  The longer Étoile lived in the bell tower, the more accustomed her ears had grown to the loud voices.  She went back to preparing food, humming along with the tune that rang out above.

Étoile finished preparing their food and placed some plates on the table where no figures stood.  Looking up to the beams, she watched Quasimodo throw himself with ease between them, amazed that he never missed a landing, nor a beat.  The bell ringer was aware of her attention and decided to show off a bit, complicating the melody as he went along.  Suddenly, he flew in a direction that Étoile had never seen him go, to the largest bell, Big Marie.  Quasimodo winked down at her and pulled the rope to the magnificently heavy bell, her sound  ringing sweetly through the tower and out to all of Paris. 

Étoile closed her eyes and listened to the amazing notes that floated away until nothing  remained except her and Quasimodo.  She wasn't sure when he had come down, but his face was alight with obvious contentedness. 

"I can see why she's your favorite.  She's beautiful."  She said, breathlessly.  Her attention to the bell he loved so much made his heart swell. 

"Would you like to eat on top of the tower?"  He asked, fumbling his hands in front of him.

"It's beautiful out, that would be wonderful."  Étoile placed their meal, along with cups and the bottle of wine she had gotten, into her basket and began climbing the stairs to the first  loft off the main.  

Climbing an endless amount of stairs with Quasimodo, she passed by the  landing that housed Big Marie and passed by her, admiring the beautiful ornamentation that ran along the opening of the bell, as she climbed up the last few staircases to the roof door.  

Quasimodo pushed the door open, the evening sun blinding her.  The sky burned brilliant colors and she smiled looking over the sparkling water in front of her. 

"I've been up here for a couple of months and you waited until now to show me this!?"  She teased, walking down the roof way to the railing, leaning over it and taking in the sights. 

"It takes a certain kind of day for me to come up here."  He explained, allowing her to look out as long as she wanted.  The bell ringer removed everything that she had packed within  her basket and set it up, facing the sunset.  Étoile finally moved back to join Quasimodo in their  meal, silently eating and watching the sunset behind the buildings of the city. 

"We'll definitely have to come up here more."  Étoile said with a content and lazy grin over her face.  "I think I'm going to move my bedding out here." 

"Out here?  You might get a little wet."  Quasimodo laughed. 

"If I sleep too close to the walls I get wet now!"  She joined in laughing.  There were few things more lovely than the tone of Big Marie, but Étoile's laugh was certainly climbing the ranks in his mind. Meanwhile Étoile's heart soared at being able to spend such a beautiful moment with the man who had become such an amazing part of her life within the past few months.  

They ate together, laughed together, shared things with one another.  While she loved going out, she always looked forward to coming back to her home and asking Quasimodo about his day, although it generally included the usual things.  He would also look forward to the talks, amazed that she never seemed to get bored of hearing him say anything. 

Nights with Phoebus and Esmeralda had changed drastically, the two would break into quiet laughter between one another over something the other said a few days prior, leaving the couple opposite them out.  They had begun sitting close together for just that reason, to be able to crack jokes at one another.  Well... That and other reasons that Quasimodo wasn't willing to confront yet. 

The thoughts that had concerned him for so long let up during daylight hours but during  the nights, they became unbearable.  Each time he closed his eyes, visions of things he knew  little about would flash across his mind's eye and leave it difficult to sleep.  Even when he would manage to finally fall asleep, she was in his dreams which varied between good and bad.  He had a dream that Frollo had walked through the door while he had Étoile in his arms, and he had ripped her away and taken her to some place unknown even to him.  His dream consisted of him tearing open doors and finding nothing behind them until he became frantic.  He had woken up in a cold sweat that night. 

"Étoile," Quasimodo spoke up when the stars started to peak out from the dark skies.  "Do you like living up here?" 

"Of course I do."

“If you don’t, it’s alright.  I know this isn’t most people’s idea of a good home.”

“I wouldn’t mind it so much.”  He watched as Étoile stretched her legs out in front of her and supported herself with her arms behind her.  “The sights are breathtaking up here, I have a perfect job, and the person I live with isn’t too bad either.”

“Will you tell me if you don’t want to live up here anymore?”

“Only if you tell me you don’t want me anymore.”  After Étoile’s statement, the two sat in silence for the longest time, just watching the stars move across the sky.  It was not very late in the night, but the sounds of the Parisian nightlife had begun to take hold, and it didn’t take long before the two decided it would be better to move indoors.  The two reached Quasimodo’s loft first, the hunchback lighting a few candles as Étoile placed the basket of dishes in the corner of the room.  The woman sighed, allowing herself to fall back onto his bedding, her skirt flaring around her.

“It was such a perfect day today.  Although I saw rain clouds, I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow.”

“I thought you liked the rain…?”  Quasimodo questioned, lighting one last candle.

“I do, but I want to go back up to the roof and read tomorrow.”  Crossing her arms behind her head, she continued.  “You keep surprising me with all these secrets.”

“Well, no one knows Notre Dame like I do.”  He said, a fond smile on his lips.  Taking a seat next to her, his arm draped over his knee as silence hung heavy between them again.

“Let me ask you something,” Étoile started, looking straight up.  “Do you like me living here?”  Quasimodo took a moment to formulate an answer, taking some courage from what Esmeralda had told him earlier in the day.

“I-I do.”  Étoile had looked over to him when he said his answer, his green eyes twinkling in the fire light.  She sat up, a toothy smile lighting her fair face.  Quasimodo had tried to pack as much fondness into the words he stated and couldn’t be sure if he was successful, but Étoile seemed to be incredibly close to him.

“Then it’s settled.  I’ll stay here as long as you do.”  Her tone was quiet, as if she wanted no one else in the world to hear her words other than Quasimodo.  Hearing his heart beat in his throat, he swallowed heavily.

“Étoile I-”  He was cut off abruptly by a foreign sensation as Étoile pushed her lips to his in a soft kiss.  She lingered not a moment before pulling back, the bell ringer seemingly frozen in place.  Deciding not to dwell on the action, Étoile stood up, straightening her dress out and picking up the basket of dirty dishware.

“Good night, Quasi.” She bade simply, disappearing into the darkness of the loft below.

~


End file.
